Adarise Salvel, Incarnate
by Svetlaena Quel'Ivan
Summary: Book Two of the Adarise Salvel series that began with 'Outlander' and concludes with 'Nerevarine'. Now bearing the Moon-and-Star, Adarise must face rejection and persecution from her own people in order to save them before all Vvardenfell is turned to ash.
1. Intro and 15-16 Frostfall, 3E426

**Introduction**

The first of my journals chronicled a confused Dunmer woman's first days of freedom from a life imprisoned, coming into her own as a warrior, and a journey to know and understand the people she never knew. So much has changed now and so has the journal I will use.

My name is Adarise Salvel, but I am now also known as Lord Indoril Nerevar. I bear the ring Moon-and-Star, and now seek to use it to unite all of Morrowind. This will be an account of that quest and of the trials that come after it, kept for the sake of accountability, history, and my own sanity.

* * *

**15 Frostfall, 3E426**

Rising this morning among the Urshilaku, I noticed on my map that I was quite close to the Ahemmusa camp in the northeast corner of the grazelands. The Grazelands is a very pleasant change from Ashlands indeed; the air is dry and salty from the sea but the grasses grow as tall as my waist. The trees are taller than buildings, spaced out from one another. As I moved inland I could already see Vos and Tel Vos in the distance right beside one another, Tel Vos looking like a Telvanni tower was trying to strangle the stone fort it was wrapped around.

By lunch I was at their camp. I took a deep breath and removed my gauntlet so my ring was visible, and walked in. I felt a lot more impressive-looking now that I have these bright Ashlander robes and proof of my identity visible on my finger. It didn't take me long to see that something was wrong. These people were entirely too thin. A small herd of guar just outside the ring of tents looked visibly ill. Every face that looked to me looked weary and fearful, though I caught a few smiles when people began noticing to my ring and pointing it out to the rest.

I approached a woman with circles beneath her eyes and took out several large kwama eggs from my pack, loading her arms with them. She tried to tell me she had nothing to trade, and I told her they were a gift for them all to share. It may have been several days of my rations, but I have well enough coin to go get more and they needed it far more than I did. If she wanted to reciprocate, I told her, then arrange for me to meet with your Ashkhan. Her smile faded.

They had no Ashkhan, she explained. He had fallen to illness and left no heir, but they still had a Wise Woman. I ducked in to see her. Her name is Sinnammu Mirpal. She explained that there was a haven nearby she was intending to take her people to, a place known as Ald Daedroth, had been taken over by followers of Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, one of the Bad Daedra and corner of the House of Troubles. If the place were made safe, however, the people would finally have a place where they could escape the blight storms and maddened creatures.

They are not warriors, and cannot martially defend themselves; that is where I come in. "You have the ring of Nerevar," she said, "Now you shall do the deeds of Nerevar, and we shall call you Nerevarine."

* * *

**16 Frostfall, 3E426**

I scouted the ruins that Sinnammu was talking about on an island just off the northern coast; its isolation and structure would be an adequate shelter indeed. Like all the other Daedric ruins I'd seen it was made of intriguingly carved blocks of stone stacked upon one another. Eerie sounds emanated from within.

Inside it was all the same carved stones, made even stranger-looking in the dim, angled lights available. I was set upon before I even saw them, one with a sword, the other with spells. Early in the altercation I made a mistake that cost me dearly; I waited too long to dodge a spell I saw coming, hoping to trick my enemy into its path, but these two were too practiced for that. The swordswoman swung the way I was trying to move, forcing me back, and I was hit by some powerful curse. The way I felt my strength drain right out of me reminded me of when I'd contracted Black-Heart Blight quite some time ago, although I'm immune to the blight now I am not immune to curses. The fighter saw her chance and pressed her advantage, raining blows on me and my shield. It took all the energy and focus I had left to finally force her off of me so I could run my sword through her, and luckily the caster was about as sturdy as wet parchment.

The curse, however, wasn't. I retreated for the door, unashamed to be doing so because I knew I would be returning. I cast my weary eyes southward as I used a restoration spell to at least reverse some of the fatigue. I never did pay proper attention to those lessons in the Temple and I doubt they'll be very keen to continue teaching me after word starts spreading, or worse, the moment they see Moon-and-Star. Either way I was now forced to return to settled civilization earlier than I thought, if only briefly for supplies.

Oh it was quite an uncomfortable matter, even in a small settlement like Vos. I still refused to hide the ring, just keeping my head high and my gaze straight ahead. The woman at the tradehouse immediately forgot the list of things I asked her for when I laid my hand on the table, and I had to recant them. Lots of staring from people..._ so much staring_. I don't think my colorful Ashlander robes and earrings and sash did much to help that. It may be a rather isolated little farming village, but the port at Vos is quite active, so I feel certain that word of my identity will now spill forth like a flood upon the settled peoples.

I felt too much paranoia after making a spectacle of myself by doing nothing more than buying some food and potions. The curse lifted now by means of alchemical concoction, I left the town despite the darkness and made myself a little camp somewhat between Vos and the Ahemmusa. I did not hide while I was in Vos; but I definitely didn't feel comfortable sleeping there.


	2. 17-18 Frostfall, 3E426

**17 Frostfall, 3E426**

My complaining muscles reminded me that I would have preferred a bed last night, but some vigorous exercise quickly loosened me up. I checked over each armor piece by the light of the sunrise for damage, straightened my shield, and returned to Ald Daedroth to finish what I began.

Someone had actually bothered to remove the corpses, a sure sign there was more activity deeper in these dark halls. This was only further confirmed when I started to hear the sounds of a fight. Peeking around a corner, I saw two fighters and two wizards engaged in a battle with one another that seemed to have no rules or clear teams. It was just every man for himself. I hung back, content to let them do most of the work for me.

It took a good deal of patience, but soon a victor emerged. I rushed up behind him when he leaned on the wall to catch his breath, already a great deal wounded, and put a swift merciful end to it. But this wasn't the only fight happening; I heard the din of other battles from elsewhere and followed the sounds to them. On my way I passed gargantuan statues of all four corners of the House of Troubles: Sheogorath, Molag Bal, Malacath and Mehrunes Dagon... Daedra holy only for the obstacles they present and considered dangerous to deal with. There was a statue of Azura too, tucked away, and I left an offering of fire salts in passing respect.

After I turned the tables of another, smaller fight between just two through direct intervention, I noticed that they, as well as the others I had seen, were all wearing the same peculiar amulet. I thought it wise to avoid touching it, as it could very well be what brought them to Ald Daedroth to fight to the death in the first place.

I have to trust that the Ahemmusa wise woman knows what she is doing in bringing her people here; I didn't find a soul within that wasn't completely mad.

* * *

**18 Frostfall, 3E426**

In last night's darkness while I tried to sleep on the beach I was awoken by something nudging my head gently. It was a guar, though I had never before seen one quite so pale. His hide was almost pure white and he was without harness, wild but docile. Thinking it was after my food, I threw a handful of saltrice some distance away so that I could go back to sleep.

The guar didn't move, it didn't even look at the food. It just went right back to bunting its head against me, trying to get me to sit up. As soon as I did it went a few paces away, stopped, and stared back at me, its tail swinging to and fro. When I didn't follow it came back over, bunted a few more times, and then dashed back away, this time thumping his thick tail in the sand and kicking it up a bit.

Disoriented, sleepy, skeptical, and wondering if I was in a dream I relented, not bothering with armor or even shoes. Every time I would get close the guar would run a few more steps away, then just stop and wait, thumping or swishing its tail. It led me through grasses that were up to my waist in some places, but the ground was thankfully soft. A gentle wind made the grasses move in dreamlike patterns and there was a din of insect noise

Finally the creature stopped. I approached the little circle of rocks and trees it had led me to. The moons and stars were bright enough that I could see what it sat beside. A corpse, mostly skeletal, was all that lay there. For a moment I cursed myself for being foolish enough to follow some wild animal into the night... then I noticed the guar was still looking at me, and leaned down to nudge the desiccated hand. A glint caught my eye, and gritting my teeth I pried an amulet out of the stiff fingers. The guar then seemed satisfied, taking off so fast I could not follow and not even looking back.

I took it to Sinnammu the next day to give my report on Ald Daedroth and asked her what the incident meant, hoping someone as well versed in mysticism as a wise woman might know what happened. At first she was startled, asking who had told me of the white guar. When I replied that it had come to me, and showed her the amulet, I think I saw tears of joy in her eyes. Some of her tribe had seen this white guar in their dreams as some kind of symbol of restoration. She was able to see what I could not and determine that object's power: it was a restoration amulet made for curing the blight. I smiled too when I knew what that meant. Not only did they now have a refuge they could take shelter in, but she could now cure the Ahemmusa that had already been afflicted.

The rest of the day was spent among the Ahemmusa. I asked Sinnammu to make her announcement in front of her clan, as the Urshilaku had done with me, for this time I had actually thought of something to say. After she spoke I stepped forward and drew my blade. Ah, what I said sounds so silly in reflection, but I was simply doing my best to sound like I thought a hero should sound like:

"Ahemmusa, I have found you shelter and healing, and while I have heard some thank me, I would rather you forgive me... for these are simply thin bandages on still-bleeding wounds. I understand that your plight is far from over but right now, this is all your Nerevarine can do for you. I have not come here to lead or rule, but to pledge my service to the Ahemmusa and all the tribes and vow that I will put an end to the blight from the Mountain and the Sharmat. Then you will have no need to hide in ruins or fear evil sicknesses. Until then I ask for your blessing, for I need all I can get."

My sentiments were remarkably well-received, met with cheers , claps, chants and the playing of simple but beautiful native instruments. I know this will likely be the warmest of my welcomes as Nerevar, so I enjoyed it while I could, answering questions I was asked about my trials, helping the Ahemmusa gather up what they could in preparation for the move and assisting those freshly cured of the blight to recover. Everything I have been told about the two remaining tribes hints they will be the most difficult to deal with. And the Great Houses? Ha. I will have to be constantly watching my back when it comes to them...


	3. 19-20 Frostfall, 3E426

**19 Frostfall, 3E426**

By noon the sun had chased away the thick morning fog and I was able to spot the Zainab camp as I made my way down the various caravan trails southward. It was set up in an ingenious place, hills blocking most of the dangerous winds and plenty of shade provided by a cluster of trees. There was more recognition in their eyes than when I was among the Ahemmusa, word must have reached them by way of traders or perhaps interaction with settlers or travelers. As soon as I was spotted I saw a couple of them dart to the tent I presumed belonged to their Ashkhan, and I was being summoned to the tent myself in a matter of minutes.

Ashkhan Kaushad immediately asked to see Moon-and-Star which I gladly obliged, warning him against touching it. He did lean awfully close, though, and to my surprise... he laughed aloud for several minutes during which I fidgeted and avoided looking at him, wondering if it would ruin my chances entirely if I put my shield into his smug face. While very curious, possibly mad and a little restless, I found him to be very skeptical. They'd heard rumors of 'some Outlander walking around taking the name of Nerevarine', and while he said my ring was 'very interesting' he said it didn't make any sense. Like Sul-Matuul, he did not see how the Incarnate could be an Outlander, he had not seen the lost prophecies and I didn't hang onto the texts myself. But it was going to take more than a piece of parchment to convince this one.

I think he grew bored with me when he realized that my stance was unshakable and I started demanding to be put to a test. He seemed pressed to even think of one and sent me to eliminate a vampire that was hiding out in a tomb somewhere on Zainab land, and once he'd given me something to do he seemed eager for me to leave. I obliged, not finding his company any more pleasant than he found mine.

The rest of the Zainab I saw as I was leaving, speaking lowly to each other, laughing, occasionally pointing to me. I do not have to be able to read minds to know I was being mocked; a lot of them had probably been listening outside their Ashkhan's yurt. Head high, eyes forward, I just kept repeating that to myself, trying not to let them get to me. I had tolerated a lot of taunting in prison, it was part of the territory of being female and incarcerated, but I wasn't used to ridicule from people I very much wanted to like me, and I don't very much care for it.

Not really wanting to hang around, having made myself and my point well known, I set off though the sun was tipping westward. The directions were simple: north until I passed the Dwemer ruin sticking out of the mountains, then east, and the tomb was between two trees just as they said. I climbed up the hill it was situated beneath and made myself a little camp up there in a thinner patch of grass.

As it would turn out, I'm at just the right vantage point on the island to watch the sun set behind Red Mountain. I watched as its shadow crept across the grazelands, the shade of the peak moving toward me like an omen. My camp was darker than the rest of the plains for some time before the light was gone entirely. And in those moments, I stood defiantly in that shadow, staring up at the mountain in silent challenge.

Now the stars are all alight and in the clear night I can see quite far. I wonder if it looked anything like this in Nerevar's day... it is strange to think I am walking the same lands I once walked in ancient times but I do not remember them. Oh how I found myself wishing I could speak to him, ask him if I am strong enough to face Dagoth Ur, ask how he died, ask what he would have me do to prove myself to the Temple faithful that will hate or fear me. But I am Nerevar, I know and feel this, I should just be able to ask myself and get answers, right? Then why can I not think of any? Why can't I remember?

Where does Adarise Salvel begin and Indoril Nerevar end?

**20 Frostfall, 3E426**

It was a rather restless night with the heavy thoughts on my mind. I slept, but I woke often and finally resigned to get up well before dawn when I found I was having trouble going under again. I donned my armor, gathered my satchel, and went inside the tomb.

There wasn't much to the place. More filthy undead like the Necromancer's lair outside of Molag Mar but only two of them to be counted. There were a few relatively fresh corpses on the ground; travelers dragged there by the vampire as food. The smell was powerful but I countered that with the same cloth I'd been using to help me breathe in thick ash storms, slipping a bit of gold kanet flower in there. Now that the odor wasn't crippling me, I proceeded into the back of the tomb where I found the vampire. I don't think I'll ever quite forget the look on his face when he realized that by some grand mystery I was completely immune to the vampiric disease he attempted to curse me with... and again I was thankful that I have always carried a silver blade.

Upon my return I was rather irritated to find Kaushad barely cared that I had dealt with the vampire; in the time I was gone it seemed he had come up with something he _actually_ wanted me to do, oh goody, I thought. He went on about what a great honor he was doing me by naming exactly what he wanted of me so I didn't have to think of it myself. _How nice._ Of course, I held my tongue and asked, as graciously as I could make myself, what his task was.

"A bride!" He exclaimed. "Built generous like you, but not as rough around the edges and foreign, finer... a Telvanni noblewoman would be perfect."

In prison, I had broken men's faces on cell bars for lesser comments when I was lucky enough to reach them. I just sat there gripping my robes as hard as I could, then I forced a smile to my face. I knew just what I needed to get through the rest of this oh-so-wonderful conversation.

"Do you have anything strong to drink?" I asked, knuckles whitening.

Kaushad passed me a bottle of the native comberry brandy and kept talking while I hastily got the bottle open and had a few sturdy sips. He described his ideal bride as 'pretty, plump, with big hips to bring me many sons'. Eventually my inhibitions dropped a bit and I calmed down ever-so-slightly. I asked him if he really thought any Telvanni nobleman would give their daughter to be married off to an Ashlander. Not just any Ashlander, he corrected me, but an Ashkhan, and surely they would feel honored that he was even offering!

I didn't exactly agree, but I skipped mentioning that and just got up, taking the bottle with me on my way out and telling him I would see what I could do. At least he promised to name me Nerevarine if I could pull it off. Noticing that I stumbled a bit, I decided that I had better put the bottle away for now before I gave the Zainab something else to laugh about, and went to see the wise woman to see if there might be some kind of more reasonable approach to this.

Her name was Sonummu Zabamat, and she agreed with me that no Telvanni in their right mind would give their daughter to an Ashlander. But, she said, it might be possible to create a convincing fake. Telvanni or not I did not think we would be able to find someone to consent to this, to which she said, then we will get someone who has no choice. She then spoke of a nearby slave market in Tel Aruhn and a slavemistress that was particularly talented in coaching slaves to fulfill specific needs. At this point the bottle of brandy came back out.

I had, until then, not really thought about it, but slavery made me uncomfortable. Perhaps it is a side effect of being brought up in more Imperial tradition and seeing people who kept slaves thrown into prison alongside me for doing so, so I learned early on that it was bad. I'd seen several since coming to Morrowind and there was even a market in Molag Mar, but I just avoided nearing or thinking about it.

Mind in a bit of a haze from the drink I set out from the camp, looking up at the sun I realized I had managed to get significantly tipsy before noon. But I kept the bottle in my satchel, allowing my mind to clear as I walked, rather certain I would need it. I thought about what I was going to tell the slavemistress. This would be one situation in which I decided through hours of deliberation that I would need to lie... telling the truth would warrant far too many unanswerable questions, and many a merchant was of the disposition to refuse trade with ashlanders. So when Tel Aruhn came into sight I stopped a moment and took off all the Ashlander garb I had gathered, opting to change into a plain but clean Imperial-style dress I kept on hand to wear while I was mending my armor. I left most of my stuff behind a stone in the grazelands, tied my hair back, slipped Moon-and-Star into my pocket and promised myself that I would only be doing this once. Of course, a good strong mouthful of brandy was had just before I walked up to the Telvanni tower.

Instead of approaching the slavemistress I made her approach me. I sauntered up to the cage pods outside, seemingly grown out of the same plant as the mushroom tree, and started looking over a Khajiit with feigned interest. The slavemistress herself was all smiles and extravagant clothes and reeking of perfume, and I tried to mirror her refined body language to win her over better, keeping a smile on my face in spite of my discomfort. Each slave cost a thousand gold, she said, and I just scoffed and asked if that was all. That got her attention. First she wanted to know if I was seeking a house slave and before I could process how that sounded I replied 'no, for company'. She led me down into an underground part of Tel Aruhn and swiftly I realized what she thought I wanted when she started showing me male slave after male slave.

The most uncomfortable I'd felt yet, I commented that this was all very nice but I would be much more interested in a fine lady. She smirked at me as if I'd just slipped her a scandalous secret. "Different tastes, hm?" I held my tongue and she took that as embarrassment, patting me on the back and leading me to a different room, assuring me I needn't be shy.

There was only one Dunmer in this room but I wasn't led to her right away, instead the slavemistress tried to convince me that if I wanted refinement, I should buy the Altmer girl she was showing off, talking about her like she was some kind of rare fruit. I just walked over to the Dunmer and said I'd made up my mind. The slave stared up at me for a few moments, eyes anxious, body language submissive. She nervously smiled back when I smiled reassuringly at her, trying to silently tell her she didn't have anything to fear from me.

She wasn't very refined, the slavemistress said, so I offered to pay her two hundred septims over the normal price and give her a day to do so if she could coach her to act like a 'proper Telvanni woman'. I even paid the whole amount forward and I saw the spark in her eye when she looked into the bag of gold. She promised that by the time I returned tomorrow, she would have her acting proper, but I'd need to shell out for her to look the part.

Finding elaborate clothes and perfume in a Telvanni settlement is about as easy as finding grass in the grazelands, so that didn't take any time at all. I left the supplies with her and went back to make camp in the plains, nervous to be seen around Tel Aruhn too much lest questions be raised.

This is too much for my conscience. When I get that slave, I'm going to be honest with her. It's likely that she would lead a pretty decent life amongst the Zainab as the wife of an ashkhan, but I cannot force someone into such an arrangement. I value my freedom too much, I cannot abide the thought of taking it away from others who deserve it as much as I do. And perhaps it makes me less of a Dunmer, but I cannot justify the practice of buying and selling people, no matter their race.


	4. 21 Frostfall, 3E426

**21 Frostfall, 3E426**

I returned to Tel Aruhn at dawn to find the slavemistress still in the process of coaching the slave. Fair enough, I did agree to give her a full day, so I occupied myself cooking up some better rations to save and eat later until noon came.

I cannot tell her apart from the other noblewomen I've seen, so Kaushad definitely cannot. As soon as I addressed her she got up, performed a perfect curtsey before me, introduced herself as 'Miss Falura Llervu' and said in very formal tones what an honor it would be to serve me. I was a bit stunned, and if I didn't know better I'd say it wasn't the same woman I paid for. Still keeping up appearances I looked her over, circled around, and commented on how nicely she had cleaned up to the slavemistress who assured me that her work was indeed professional.

Then I noticed the heavy gauntlet around Falura's left arm. An irremovable weighty gauntlet worn by near every slave in Morrowind, designed to hinder the use of magic and therefore prevent possible escapes, and mark escaped fugitives to make them easier to find. Those more accustomed to the slave trade than I would call that a massive loss of investment. Since that would be a dead giveaway, I called the slavemistress over to ask if it was possible to cut it off. She seemed surprised that I would even want to, bringing into question my reasoning, and why would I want to make it easier for her to run away?

All the questions were making me uncomfortable but I needed this, so I thought up another bluff. I slipped my arm around Falura's shoulder and pulled her close, which made her color a bit and look at the floor but she expertly maintained her high-bred posture. I scoffed at the notion of her flight, saying that I was going to treat her well enough and she'd have so little work to do that she'd be silly to run from me. To this explanation she relented, bringing out an enchanted implement that unlocked the gauntlet, letting it drop off. It was as heavy as a piece of my armor, I nearly winced when I heard it hit the ground, thinking but not expressing that it was horrid to make people who hadn't even been through endurance training wear such a thing all day and night.

When we left Tel Aruhn in somewhat awkward silence, Falura trailing just behind me and staring at everything in wonder. The sky was clouding over and we reached the cluster of rocks where I had been hiding all my things. I asked her politely to gather some wood for a quick fire, refusing to give her orders. I told her we needed to talk. The look in her eyes was a bit strange as she took off to do so. I don't think she expected to not only be spoken to as a person rather than an object, nor did she expect someone who bought her to trust her to wander off, and with no bracer on. I would not have blamed her for fleeing then, but she didn't. Just as I was starting to wonder she returned with her arms full of fallen branches.

By then I was waiting in my full armor as well as my robe and it'd begun to rain gently, so we settled under the wide leaves of a palm and got the fire started. It felt good to have Moon-and-Star back on my finger, as if I was myself again and not under a stranger's guise. I broke the ice by asking her what she thought of the Grazelands. Beautiful, she said. I told her everything that I had said in Tel Aruhn was a lie, and the name I had given was fake, explaining while trying not to avoid her gaze in shame that I had bought her to fulfill a bargain.

"But I want to give you the choice," I said. "You can follow me to the Zainab camp and be the bride of an Ashkhan, who will treat you well thinking you are a noble come to him by free will. Or you can tell me you wish to be free and I will escort you anywhere in Vvardenfell, and help you arrange passage to Cyrodiil."

Falura didn't spend much time thinking about it. Despite the turns her life had taken, Morrowind was her home, and she found the grazelands most pleasant. The appeal of being treated like a noble's daughter was also quite acceptable. She asked me if Kaushad was handsome, and I admitted I wasn't really focused on his looks when I spoke to him but there was nothing that stood out as ugly about him. I warned her of his ego, and she laughed and just said that was a trait all men shared.

To go from a slave that could end up anywhere, even in a fate worse than death, to the bride of an Ashkhan traveling with the Nerevarine, Falura said, was an overabundance of good fortune. Jokingly, I told her to hold that thought until she'd met Kaushad, but I felt the weight of her words.

I felt a lot more peace about leading her to the Zainab camp after that, as she was now well-informed as to what was actually happening and even looked a tad eager when I urged her step into the yurt. I lingered outside, a tad anxious when I couldn't overhear anything. But minutes later they both emerged again, Falura already having donned some beads and a feathered head-dress and Kaushad loudly hollering for his people to gather around. Curious, they set down their tasks and their crafts and popped out of their yurts to see what all the ruckus was about.

First he announced his imminent wedding to 'House Telvanni's most beautiful daughter, Lady Falura Llervu'. I was impressed by how happy she already seemed, holding to her husband-to-be with a natural chemistry I didn't know could happen so fast. I can't stand the man so it seems strange to me, but if she's happy, that's that and it's not my place to question it. I got what I wanted out of the arrangement after all, right after that he jerked my hand up into the air so fast my shoulder popped uncomfortably, proclaiming me as Zainab Nerevarine for my 'great deed in ensuring the strong bloodline of their leader would continue'. This seemed to be enough for the Zainab people, however, who cheered the whole thing on. Kaushad may be egotistical, but he has the love of his people secured. A few of them would later admit surprise to me about his decision to name an Outlander Nerevarine, but said they wouldn't question their Ashkhan's judgment. There were no apologies but I did not need them. I had everything I needed.


	5. 22 Frostfall, 3E426

**22 Frostfall, 3E426**

It... took some time before I felt well enough again to write this tonight.

In the morning the camp was already bustling with preparations for the ceremony, which part of me wanted to see, but the sensible Nerevarine within looked up at the Mountain and decided I could make better use of my time. The Zainab told me of a passage to the south between the mountains into Molag Amur, which marked the border between their lands and those of the much more aggressive Erabenimsun tribe.

Finding them was hardest because of the lack of open space, it's all canyons and mountains in Molag Amur and I more than once found my path, which had obviously been a road at some point, blocked by rivers and pools of magma. It was almost sundown when I finally did and had gotten dark in the deeper canyons long before. This time I was quite nervous, everything I had been told suggested that the Erabenimsun were somewhat disregarding of honorable tribal traditions and had grown increasingly hostile as the threats from the Mountain grew. Nibani had told me that their wise woman was a calm, peaceful sort however, a woman she knew and trusted, so I decided instead of risking facing down the Ashkhan I'd go straight to see her.

I had experienced being scoffed and sneered and stared at plenty so far from showing Moon-and-Star, but this was a little... different. There were two sorts: the ones whose eyes widened in fear and immediately ducked into a yurt, and those that froze in their tracks and glared at me like they were trying to kill me with a single thought. There was familiarity: they knew what I was. But all were eerily silent. All I heard was the sound of the reed chimes gently ringing and hides rustling in the wind and the metallic clank of my own armored step. I thought I saw a couple of these maneuver toward the Ashkhan's yurt as I passed them, so I picked up my pace a bit and went right into the yurt with the familiar rug outside, indicating it belonged to the wise woman.

"You are a fool to come here," she said to me as I stepped in. I told her I was aware of that, but I was doing what I had to do. She then said they would never accept me.

"I will make them," I said.

She was curious about my trials so far. I had encountered quite a lot of frenzied creatures in Molag Amur, so I removed my armor and put on my old Imperial dress so that I could repair it, and the wise woman, called Manirai, took out a needle and began to mend the few small tatters on my ceremonial robes for me while we discussed what I could do. The son of the former Ashkhan, who she said she supported, was struggling with doubt. He had the potential to lead, but not the strength... and the current Ashkhan Ulath-Pal who had taken his predecessor's axe had that strength. However, Ulath-Pal wished to make war on not just their fellow tribes but on all that were not of their ilk. Worse yet, he had the support of a good many members of the tribe.

I didn't really need the rest explained to me, for now I got to learn first-hand. A rough voice called from outside the yurt. "Are you keeping that Outlander scum in there, Manirai?"

Another joined in with, "Come on out, n'wah, if you're not scared."

That did it. Despite Manirai trying to grab my arm and stop me I jerked it out of her grasp. I had my honor to think about, and my reputation as Nerevar. Taking my freshly-cleaned sword I stepped out to meet them in naught but my foreign dress.

Much of the clan seemed to be gathered around the growing confrontation and I found myself facing down three men. One stood in front, and by his ornaments and demeanor I could easily discern that this was Ulath-Pal. The two that flanked him looked even stronger than him to my eyes. Their Ashkhan spoke up first, smirking at me. "Well, Outlander. Just who do you think you are coming to Erabenimsun camp?"

My reply was deadpan but proud. I introduced myself formally, said I was the Nerevarine wishing for acknowledgement, showed them Moon-and-Star. But then my world spun, I fell... it took me a moment to realize I'd been hit, quite hard too, and my mouth was filling with blood. Spitting it out I struggled to get my hands under me and get back up, and first, I thought I felt someone helping me. I should have known better. Ulath-Pal's lackeys held me there by the arms while their leader took cheap shots at me with his fists.

I'd taken beatings before, but that was one of the most humiliating. I saw some of the tribespeople looking at me sympathetically, powerless to do anything to help. Eventually Ulath-Pal grew bored of beating me and I was dropped to the ground again, kicked a couple of times for good measure. "Hah, Nerevarine. Nobody cares. You make us tired." said one of the lackeys. "You're lucky we don't kill you. Now go away," called out another, throwing a bone that thankfully missed, striking the yurt instead.

I don't think I've ever been so angry. I laid there staring at my own blood spattered all over the ground, spat out some more, stared at my ring... and it was as if I snapped. All the anger I had suppressed dealing with unsavory slavemistresses, necromancers, and all the resentment I had for the way I'd been treated when I sought to help, all the negativity that festered from my youth, boiled to the surface like an eruption of Red Mountain. It was that rage that drove me to stand again, draw my sword as well as the attention of all those that had walked away, and brandish my blade at Ulath-Pal even though I was without shield or plate.

"I am Nerevar and you will know me as such in respect or in death!" I screamed like a madwoman. He charged with axe and shield drawn and we clashed. He was very fast indeed with his light shield to block my frenzied blows, but a few of them soon destroyed the integrity of it and the shield split down the middle. As did his skull.

I was still freeing my sword when I felt something agonizing sink into me just below my left shoulder-blade, peering back to see Ulath-Pal's bodyguard nocking another arrow onto his bow. The other lackey was coming at me with a spear, and though my vision blurred from pain and fatigue I managed to parry his charge and get around the other side of him so his friend couldn't get another clear shot at me. After a few exchanged blows, one of which smacked me solidly in the side and I later found out broke two ribs, I feigned low and he made to block, giving me a clear swipe to take off his head. Getting near the bowman was tricky; there was another arrow, this one in my sword-arm, before I put an end to his threat.

When the rush of battle faded so did I, collapsing onto the ground. I don't remember too much of what came next, except that I was in the wise woman's yurt and there was a man speaking with her while she tended to my wounds. I came to in a far better state than I expected to be in, Manirai's healing is quite talented. There is still, of course, significant pain with almost every movement and my bones and muscles need time to heal before I can be in any condition to wear my armor again.


	6. 23-24 Frostfall, 3E426

**23 Frostfall, 3E426**

When I woke it was not Manirai that was tending to me, but a man. I asked where the Wise Woman had gone and he told me she was outside speaking with the tribespeople and helping clean up the horrible mess I'd made in the middle of their camp, as well as gathering more herbs to heal me. I chuckled bitterly, though it hurt to do so. I thought I had blown my chances. He said his father would have named me Nerevarine, with a sigh... at this point I realized I was talking to the man Manirai said she supported as Ashkhan.

Han-Ammu is his name, and I could tell from his frame that he was definitely not a warrior... he looks as if he'd struggle just to wear half of the set I walk around in. I told him I'd heard a bit about their plight and suggested that he rise to Ashkhan now that I had cleared the way. He was not fond of that idea in the least. He wasn't fit for it, he said, keeping his head down. Even though he had the right by blood and by Manirai's support, he felt completely inadequate for the task. Furthermore, he felt as if the whole tribe disliked him.

I stared at the ceiling of the yurt for a bit, watching smoke escape through the small hole in the top. Everything he said felt rather familiar. I thought about the Mountain, about the voice of Dagoth Ur, of the power he is said to wield... power drawn directly from the heart of a fallen god, power that even the Tribunal can no longer hold at bay. And I am to face him alone. I have no doubts about my prowess with a blade, but what good is a mere sword against such might? Will I even be able to touch him? But I must try... I pulled myself to a sit painfully, for now I had something important I wanted to say.

"I know how that feels," I said, "when you see your destiny laid out before you and you wonder if you've been mistaken for someone else... someone greater, someone stronger." My fingers brushed Moon-and-Star to soothe myself. "You feel like a paper kagouti facing down a storm. But then I remember that Morrowind needs Nerevar... well, needs_ me_... despite what they may think of me, I've been chosen. Just the same, the Erabenimsun need you, Han-Ammu, whether they like it or not."

"And if you fail?" He asked me after a long silence.

"Then I die knowing I gave it everything I had." I sighed. "I just have to believe that won't happen."

He then urged me lay back down, lest I reopen one of my wounds. I didn't argue. I must have drifted back to sleep, because when I opened my eyes again Manirai and Han-Ammu were talking around the fire, and I saw his father's axe in his hand. He had decided to do it, and they were in the midst of preparations for the announcement.

When Manirai saw that I was awake she came to my side and began to explain what has been happening outside. Once the bodies were taken care of and the blood cleaned off the yurts, people were a bit shaken, but oddly, none of them were outraged. When I questioned this she told me that, from their perspective, my maddened cry equated to a challenge and so I had done nothing wrong in killing them. And the fact that I took on three alone and emerged victorious had earned her people's begrudging respect. It also wasn't terribly uncommon for Ashkhans to meet violent ends, so no one was particularly surprised.

I was relieved to hear that although they still didn't exactly like me, it was doubtful any of them would object to my being named Nerevarine. They were all rather stone-faced during Manirai's little speech, though none of them were trying to kill me with their eyes anymore. I suppose I should be grateful for at least that. Manirai urged the Erabenimsun to follow their new Ashkhan faithfully and put their reputation of violence in the past... I wonder if that will stick.

I took the remaining half-day to rest and recover. Thanks to Manirai, I should be in good enough condition to travel tomorrow. It's odd to think that my dealings with the Ashlanders, for the time being, are over... I have completed this part of the Trials that Azura laid out for me.

* * *

**24 Frostfall, 3E426**

Remembering that Balmora was run by House Hlaalu, I have decided to start with them.

Wishing Han-Ammu all the best, I set out as soon as it was light, heading as much due west as the firey landscape allowed me. Really, Hlaalu might prove the easiest to deal with simply because of their loyalty to the Empire, embracing of foreigners, and disregard for the headache of Temple politics. I had heard that some of their highest-ranked members were Imperials. And of course they love the Empire, because it has made them all very rich. Balmora's thriving economy and trade center is almost entirely their doing. Hlaalu loves coin, and of that, I have plenty.

I realized today that I've been among the Ashlanders for over a fortnight, barely seeing civilization except my brief visits to Vos and Tel Aruhn. I imagine the return to the luxuries of civilized life might be enjoyable if I didn't have such unpleasant business to attend, or if I didn't have to watch my back. I will have to allow myself to be paranoid, for this is a time that actually calls for it. I am an enemy of the Temple, a heretic, I must not forget that there are many who will want to see me dead.

My path was winding and I ran into a few dead ends but tried to stay on a westerly course when I could. It was difficult to tell if a canyon would eventually open up or lead to a magma pit or wall of rock when the fog was so thick. I'd had my fair share of encounters with cliff racers, swooping at me out in the wilderness... but never had I run into six at once. I must have stumbled across some nesting area because one minute I was just trying to navigate the fog and the next I was beset by the miniature swarm, swooping and pecking and screeching. I swung wildly. Those I didn't hit eventually fled, but I must say, I am really coming to hate these things...

It'd gotten dark a couple of hours before I reached Balmora, but I knew from the landmarks that I was getting close so I pressed on despite the complaints of my still battle-sore muscles. People that were still out and about definitely noticed the garb I was wearing, I could feel their eyes on me. And then I saw the man who I'd encountered outside the Mages' Guild here... the mad victim of the Sixth House's soul sickness. He grinned at me just like he had that day... and proceeded to follow me, making little secret of it.

He waited until I was unlocking the door to the apartment Caius left me to assault me. He had no weapon, and his build suggested a commoner but the madness gave him uncanny strength. He wrapped his hands around my neck and tried to choke the life from me, but I kicked him away. He tumbled down the stone steps leading up to the door and I gave chase, drawing my sword. He was back on his feet fast and babbling nonsense about how I'd rejected the Sharmat's friendship or something like that... I don't care, but at the same time I was thinking better of drawing my blade. He might be a madman now, but it's the influence of the Mountain doing this to him... so rather than end the poor man I just used the flat of my blade to knock him out cold and wait for the Hlaalu guard to patrol back around. I explained they may want to lock this one up until he starts making sense again.

I almost hoped I'd open that door to find Caius sitting at the table with his skooma pipe, but no such luck. There is not even a single sign he'd been here and the books are getting dusty. Perhaps, when I find the time, I'll send along a letter to Cyrodiil to say hi and ask what he's up to.


	7. 25-26 Frostfall, 3E426

**25 Frostfall, 3E426**

I was out and about early when another of those horrid nightmares jolted me out of my sleep for the remainder of the night, and had to wait for the market to open to get any trading done. Word has most definitely gotten around, a couple of foreigners even asking me about it. Most non-Dunmer seem to think this is all just a run of odd superstitions and don't seem to entirely grasp what it's all about. They treat my situation with passing curiosity, merely shrugging their shoulders at the 'bizarre Dark Elf business' and going about their lives.

When I returned to the apartment to drop off my supplies before seeing about House Hlaalu, I discovered a note pinned to my door. It bore the signature of the Temple mistress in Balmora, and the contents weren't that surprising. Formal denouncement, called a heretic, I was urged to forsake the name of Nerevar and admit that I'm lying and reform. She wrote that if I continued there would be consequences, but the Temple had not forgotten the deeds I did for them and thus I was being given a chance to 'confess' and be forgiven.

I pondered writing back to refuse... I also pondered burning it but in the end I just wadded it up and discarded it. There's no real point in provoking the Temple any more than by just being what I am. I need to give the people reasons to support me, not reasons to paint the target on my back any bigger and brighter.

The Hlaalu Council Manor was situated on the upper end of town, a lavish building filled with people in exquisite robes and tapestries that must have cost a fortune. They seemed skeptical but curious about me, it was a relief to have a break from all the hostility. And although Balmora is the council seat, none of the Hlaalu councilors actually live there, much to my surprise. I was given a directory and pointed to the city of Vivec, where four of the councilors are located, the fifth maintaining a manor in Suran. It made sense when I thought it over, as it was a far more glamorous and cosmopolitan city than Balmora and a fine place for those who love luxury. Of all of them I am told Crassius Curio, who I am guessing to be an Imperial by his name, is the most likely to listen to anything I have to say.

It was a clear day so I set out after thanking the guide for her information but by the time I reached Pelagiad, I was far more tired than I expected to be. My fight with the Erabenimsun Ashkhan and his lackeys left wounds that, while nearly completely healed, still ache. A little rest and a little liquor would fix that, I was sure of it. As I was making my way to the inn I nearly collided with someone coming out, and recognized him right away. It was Nels Llendo, the highwayman who in lieu of robbing me requested a kiss, doubtlessly coming into town to attend to whatever shady business he was up to today. I'd recognize that tousled crimson hair, agile frame and sly smirk anywhere.

I greeted him and he stopped, stared, and it was a moment before his eyes lit up in acknowledgment, asking if that was really me under that strange garb and commenting on how long it's been. I chuckled and said that a lot of odd things had happened since then; he's heard, it's common word on the street these days, and I was pleased that he didn't seem off-put by it. No, rather, he began asking me many questions about it, so I suggested we talk about it over drinks in the room I was about to rent.

Sounded good to him, so now I wait in that room while he runs a few errands of his own, trying to stop my mind from constantly drifting to and dreading my arrival in Vivec City tomorrow. I wonder how far I will be able to get before the Temple decides to drop all pretense and hunt me down. I think I hear Nels returning... I cannot wait to get into this bottle.

* * *

**26 Frostfall, 3E426**

I got up this morning rather surprised I didn't have a headache, wondering if I'm immune to that too now but unwilling to risk finding out. Even after I'd gotten my armor on Nels was still sleeping hard so I quietly departed the room, leaving in his hand one of my many beaded Ashlander earrings, for it's entirely possible we will never again cross paths.

Feeling significantly less sore and with a light feeling to my step I made my way off to Vivec City. On the road I was happy to be back in the fresh air and green landscapes of the Ascadian region, even though it's colder than I remember it being. But my mood was put back in a bad place when I got to the city itself and within ten minutes of my arrival an Ordinator put out his foot and tripped me in the middle of the street. He didn't even hide that he'd done it, laughing behind his mask and making a rude gesture before being on his way. I took a few deep breaths before I got up, keeping my anger levels as low as I could... it is something I was never that good at controlling and being antagonized by all sides for days on end is putting me on edge.

Yet I cannot act on it. A single misstep will negate everything I have been working toward. I must try to tell myself that they are not at fault for their own prejudice: it is the lies of the Tribunal. It is an indoctrination that goes back millennia... it will not vanish overnight.

On top of that, the Imperial Crassius Curio turned out to be one of the most intolerable kind of people. He insists on being called 'Uncle Crassius' and will correct me every time I refuse to address him as such, and will not stop calling me 'sweetie' even though I asked him no less than twice to stop. It is a very stupid kind of person that will talk to a grown warrior like she is a child. Of course, I kept that thought to myself. If nothing else, he was gracious enough to explain to me the ancient role of Hortator, a term that until now I only had a nebulous understanding of.

The purpose of the Hortator is to lead by inspiration. They stand alone against impossible odds, a champion chosen by unanimous vote of the Great House's council members. A single dissenter among the council would completely invalidate their claim. It is a rite only invoked in times of great need, which we agreed, the current events very much meet that criteria. The Hortator does not have to be a member of any Great House, acting independently, but serving as an example of what they should aspire to be.

Crassius said he'd like to pledge his vote, but he just couldn't risk it. When I inquired as to what that risk was, he told me that someone named Orvas Dren would not let it happen, and upsetting this Orvas Dren was a particularly dangerous thing to do. I hadn't remembered seeing that name in the directory of councilors, but Crassius clarified. He wasn't a member of the House, but as head of the crime syndicate Camonna Tong he had great influence over two of its councilors, the ones that lived outside the city near the plantations.

Remembering how much Hlaalu love coin, I slipped Crassius a sack of septims and his tune changed a bit. That made the risk worth it for him and he agreed to give me his vote after all, but said I'd never get the votes of the two councilors under Orvas Dren's thumb without going through him. The man is known to be an extreme xenophobe and there has been talk about something... darker happening with his smuggling deals as of late. Something tells me I would not be arrested for killing the head of an illegal syndicate, so that's a possibility... and an inevitability if I find evidence he's working with the Sixth House like that nagging in the back of my mind suggests.

I decided to stay in the city the rest of the day, mostly hanging around the Foreign and Hlaalu cantons and trying to just enjoy the amenities and imported Imperial food... I cannot put into words how lovely it was to eat oranges and strawberries again. They were a rare treat in prison and they were never this fresh there, but this sort of thing does not even grow on Vvardenfell.

At some point in the evening, my wanderings took on a surprising turn. I almost felt as if I was being compelled, and yet I had complete control over myself. My nerves were on edge as I walked through the Temple district, grateful that it was getting dark. And when I stopped, I found myself standing on the bridge between the Temple and Vivec's own Palace, staring up the long staircase to his door. I suspected I was being watched, but could see no one. I must have stood there at least a half hour, gazing up at that door blankly, questioning, before I willed myself to turn away and return to the Foreign Quarter.

Had Moon-and-Star led me there? Was there something I was trying to show me, get me to do? I know that a meeting is probably inevitable someday... but I am not ready for it yet.


	8. 27-28 Frostfall, 3E426

**27 Frostfall, 3E426**

Under the light of the sunrise I wandered the green plantations and farmlands that stretched from Vivec to Suran, the bread-basket of most of Vvardenfell. There were vast fields of saltrice, marshmerrow, comberry bushes, and ash yams mostly. Paths made by feet and pack-guar wound between farms and it was nearly impossible to find the people I was looking for without asking around, but the city of Vivec dominated the landscape so it was easy to keep my bearings. I also saw a lot more slaves, almost all beastfolk, working the fields and tending to netches than I was comfortable with. But despite this, there was a solace to the place, the workers and farmers all seemed well-fed and were chatting with each other freely and smiling. I suppose if one is a slave, this is one of the better places to wind up. I felt my step quicken when I recalled the words 'Curse-of-Seed' from the Seven Trials... even though this region has been fortunate enough to escape most hardships so far, it is only a matter of time.

I found Velanda Omani's manor off to the east of the city sitting rather by itself, but big enough to stand out from the others. I introduced myself, she was of course gracious in the way a noble is, but she got nervous the minute I dropped the word 'Hortator'. She knew something, I could see it behind her eyes, but she wouldn't tell me what and even denied knowing the name Orvas Dren. Velanda is a very poor actress. Every word she spoke to deny simply confirmed, her body language and nervous chuckles at nothing giving her away, and she refused to stay on the topic of giving me her vote.

I wanted to get angry, demand she tell me what was going on. I recalled seeing the attendants in her house, and figured I could take them down if need be. Compelled, I laid my fingers on the surface of Moon-and-Star and calmed this fire in my mind. I looked at her again, and saw fear in her eyes, but not of me. The rage dwindled. The realization hit me that this Dren has something he is dangling over her and her fellow councilor... a threat of force, an extortion, something has her afraid to even speak his name. Bringing it up would do no good, though, I would have to go to the source of the problem directly. I thanked her for her time, said it would be an honor for her to consider naming me Hortator, and left abruptly.

I got one of her attendants outside to direct me to the Dren Plantation, and when I found it I almost thought I'd stumbled into a small city. It was situated near Suran, an entire walled complex containing multiple buildings and even more wooden shacks. There were many slaves, but these were quiet and kept their heads down, not even raising their eyes to see me as they went about their business. I asked a Nord who seemed to be directing them where I might find Orvas Dren and he promptly spat my direction, not bothering to even answer. The rest of them were just as rude, so I decided to ask one of the slaves. That got their attention. The Nord from before seized my arm and dragged me away from the Argonian woman, who shuffled off immediately with her heavy basket.

"Someone ought to teach you some manners," he said, his voice gruff and breath reeking of alcohol. "Don't talk to the slaves. They're busy. You're interrupting the Boss's operations." I tried not to scrunch my nose as his face was right up in mine, merely saying I wanted to speak to the plantation owner. With a grunt he pointed to the largest building, shoved me toward it, and walked away.

Keeping my eyes open for anything suspicious, I entered the villa and went right upstairs. Orvas Dren didn't seem too pleased to be interrupted, making entries in some kind of logbook. Remembering my dignity, I bowed, made sure Moon-and-Star was well visible and explained that I had heard of his influence over House Hlaalu, and I had come in hopes of winning his support for the position since his opinion 'holds great esteem in the eyes of some Hlaalu councilors'. For the time being, I kept my doubts to myself.

He showed some obvious resentment toward me, asking what that title could possibly mean to a foreigner. My answer was simple. It meant the power to help bring peace to this island and put a stop to Dagoth Ur. Dren was on his feet so fast his chair toppled over, snatching a blade from a nearby shelf and swinging at me. I blocked with my own and our eyes met... pure anger behind his. "You want peace?" he asked with gritted teeth and I answered in the affirmative. Another blow. This time I rose my shield, using the force of his strike against him to knock him back a few steps. He hit his bookshelf; I started to notice just how confined the space we were fighting in was.

"Peace... like the peace of the grave we've had since the Tribunal betrayed us and signed the Armistice with the Empire?" Orvas Dren stood at the ready, kicking the topped chair aside to give us more room to circle each other. "No no no..." A grin. "The Sixth House has made me a better offer."

And that was all I needed to hear to be on him with all my strength. Even though he put up a pretty good fight, the small space and lack of a proper means to block worked against him and finally spelled his end. I was left gasping for air, but I couldn't hang around, I don't think I could have taken every man and woman that supported him in that complex. Inspection of his person revealed a letter with the seal of the Sixth House... as I suspected. I left it on top of the corpse as evidence to his demise. I went out the nearby door, which led to a balcony overlooking the waterfront the plantation sat on. There was no stair down, to my dismay, but I stepped over the railing and carefully slipped down to the ground, leaving the plantation grounds far behind.

With him out of the way, I shall have to pay another visit to Velanda Omani and find the other councilor who Dren controlled, but first I need to sit back and let word get around of his 'unfortunate demise'.

* * *

**28 Frostfall, 3E426**

It was pouring down rain when I went to find the home of Nevana Ules, which turned out to be not too far from the plantation itself, just outside the road I exited Suran by. Word had most certainly reached her. She was a bit like Crassius Curio, but not nearly as infuriating, just... a flatterer beyond the bounds of propriety, telling me I would make a 'very special Hortator' and tagging 'is that okay?' onto the end of everything. Nevana had her attendants bustling about me to dry my hair even though I kept saying I was just going back into the rain, bring me hot tea, feed me some kind of baked sweet that I enjoyed but couldn't identify. Whatever it was Orvas Dren was doing, she's to say the least grateful I put an end to it.

Though, she was the one to inform me albeit indirectly that Orvas was the younger brother of the current duke of all Vvardenfell district, Vedam Dren. I was surprised I hadn't made the connection before. The fact remains that he was a known criminal, however, so I am trying not to be too alarmed by the possible consequences of what I've done. I left her home with a slip of paper in my satchel that confirmed her vote. According to tradition, if the councilors do not have the time or do not find it necessary to meet to discuss the vote, a signed slip from each will suffice.

Velanda Omani wasn't surprised at all to see me. In fact, she'd already written up a signed piece of parchment containing her endorsement of me and her vote. She'd heard the news from Nevana, and commented that it was 'terrible that he met such a fate'... while giving me a not-so-subtle wink. I was assured that if there was anything I needed, 'anything at all', and I found myself in the Ascadian farmlands, I need only turn up at either of their doorsteps. That made three councilors won over, two to go.

Referencing my directory I had to go back to Vivec, finding that I was rather begrudged to do so and I couldn't explain why. The Nord, Yngling Half-Troll, lived in the St. Olms Canton at the top in a typical Hlaalu lavish estate with many servants. I wasn't too surprised that a foreigner, although a Great House councilor, didn't have too much reverence for the Hortator tradition. But I made the mistake of giving away in my demeanor just how much I wanted it and he saw his chance to sell me the title.

Yet again, I found myself on the edge of violence. These Hlaalu and I are cut from very different cloth, we do not hold anything in the same value. In almost everything they only see how they may profit, even in times of desperation. Yngling named his price, I paid it, gathered my slip and left with the intention to never see him again if I can possibly help it.

Dram Bero was the last councilor I needed the vote of... if I could find him. An elusive man, he lists no fixed residence in the directory except, vaguely, 'Vivec'. And this is not a small city. But I had contacts, thanks to good old Caius Cosades. I remembered the information-gatherers he'd sent me to Vivec to meet with aside from Mehra... the beastfolk Huleeya and Addhiranirr, and set off to find them. Huleeya was hanging around in the rare bookstore chatting with the owner when I found him, and he seemed pleased to see me again. When I dropped the name he scratched his scales and said it sounded very familiar, but all he could do was direct me to St. Olms Canton as the place he heard it.

Addhiranirr was far more helpful. She took a few moments to think, muttering to herself and swishing her tail to and fro. Then she raised her head with a smile. "He acted like thief, did not want to be seen," she said. "But Khajiit is better at not being seen, yes, and watched him go into the haunted manor."

Apparently, one of the manors on top of the canton has been vacant for some time. One of Addhiranirr's fellow thieves had broken in once and said there was nothing to be found but dust, broken furnishings, and he was eventually spooked out by the sound of disembodied voices. Certain I'd seen far worse even if there were actually ghosts in there and not some kind of illegal operation Bero was part of, I made for it immediately.

For the first floor, it was what I expected and heard of. Dust so thick I nearly coughed, cobwebs and a few discarded knick-knacks of little to no value lay about. I made to go into the basement, but found there was nothing there but a stairwell, a short hall, and a wardrobe at the end. Nothing inside the wardrobe, but I was suspicious anyway, staring at the emptiness inside. The piece of furniture was large, taking up the whole width of the back wall. I ran my fingers over it thoughtfully, and found no dust... although everything else was covered in it. Not to mention, what kind of absurd design for a home was it to have such a small, useless basement area? Particularly if this was supposed to be a manor? I tapped the back panel. Flimsy. Made a hollow sound. Something was back there.

Drawing my blade I rolled my shoulder, balanced my stance, and took a mighty chop at it. The back panel of the wardrobe tore into a hundred splinters... cheap wood, I thought. And on the other side? Standing among rich furnishings, with two nervous bodyguards at his side and their hands on their weapons, was the man I assumed to be Dram Bero. He didn't look too startled considering what had just happened, and with a wave of his hand, sent the two away.

"Really now," he said dully, "There was a little hook and you were supposed to lift- you know what, never mind. Come in."

I looked around as he led me to his quarters, asked him why he was hidden in such a strange place. His only answer for that was that he liked his privacy, stated in a tone that made it rather clear he didn't like me inquiring about it. Introductions were simple; Dram Bero knew who I was, he had informants all over the city, and he knew what I was after. He hadn't expected me to be able to find him, and seemed impressed that I had. Impressed enough that he was willing to give me his vote, much to my relief. He offered to let me stay there for the night since it was getting late and Crassius is probably asleep.

I feel a bit bad about the wardrobe so I think I will leave him some coin for repairs when I wake, but I and my coin-purse are both relieved that after I see Crassius tomorrow, my dealings with this difficult House are at an end.


	9. 29-31 Frostfall, 3E426

**29 Frostfall, 3E426**

With votes in hand I returned to Crassius Curio, who seemed mildly surprised that I had pulled it off. But he was ever his patronizing self and even went so far as to pat me on the head. Such a thing manages to anger me nearly as quick as pure aggression so once I'd gotten the belt that symbolizes my station wrapped around my waist I made for the cornerclub. I felt like I had earned a break for keeping my cool as well as I had with House Hlaalu.

While there I saw two rather downcast men toasting drink after drink together. Curious, I purchased my own and sat down beside them and listened as they reminisced about a mutual friend, slurred voices recanting tales of mercenary jobs and drunken exploits. So deep in their cups their toast almost missed and one nearly slipped from his stool, I heard them say in unison, 'May his ghost forgive us for what we had to do.'

"Pardon me, sera, but what happened to the man you both drink to?" I startled them a bit, not having noticed me sit down apparently. Corprus, they both replied so loudly that the rest of the tavern gave us odd glances. They then regaled me with a no-doubt embellished story about how the three of them had taken a job to take out a smuggler's den west of the city. But as soon as they reached the cave they were beset by a gaunt, deformed creature. While they had managed to kill it, it was too late for their companion, on whom the disease was already visibly spreading. In his agony he'd begged his friends to help him, and they did, in the only way they knew how.

The only other time I'd heard of a case of corprus that set in that fast was the Imperial Legion scout on the western coast, contracted directly from the Sixth House base hidden there. I asked what else they might have seen in there and they admitted they hadn't gotten far in, but described rows of candles that shone blood-red and a strange carving of a beetle. It all pointed at House Dagoth, and it was probably the same operation that Orvas Dren had been helping to run. The location they gave was unsettlingly close to Seyda Neen, so I decided my next order of business would be cleaning this place out.

I took my bottle on the road with me, setting out west and following the mercenaries' notes. Soon I could see a shoddy little dock with crates on it and a few empty rowboats. From there it was a simple matter of following the trail of plants trampled into the mud from their footsteps all the way to a little door poking out of the swamp. The odor inside the cave was unmistakable as the foul stench of corprus disease and everything was either crimson or blackness. I was in the right place.

There was little challenge to be had. Infected are too sluggish to be much of a threat to me particularly because I needn't fear being contaminated as I once did. There was some scrambling up rocks to be done, which I can say was quite frustrating in full armor, in order to reach the main shrine. Inside there I ran into the same hunched-over abominations from before, casting horrible spells and curses. But once that struggle was over I turned and saw a row of bells.

Oh, I had seen the bells in other shrines too, but never really had the thought at the time to inspect them. Tapping them produced a familiar tone... it was the same bells I was hearing in my nightmares. In anger I attempted to shatter them, but they are made of something stronger than my blade and all I managed to do was nearly deafen myself. When I closed my eyes in pain from the loud resonance I saw things... all quick flashes, but definable things nonetheless though I cannot identify them... places and people that I didn't recognize but felt very strongly that I should. A woman whose beauty defies words smiled at me lovingly. Then the images were gone, the sound dying down and I opened my eyes again.

In a bit of shock, I left the cleared-out cave and made camp just outside of it. It grows late and though my body is exhausted, my mind will not rest. That always makes sleep excessively difficult.

* * *

**30 Frostfall, 3E426**

A flipped coin has decided between Houses Redoran and Telvanni that Telvanni will be my next project. I can safely say I have no idea how well they will receive me. They're known for their unwillingness to involve themselves in anything of real political weight and don't take religion very seriously either, which simultaneously helps and hurts my chances. Their councilors are ancient, eccentric, and probably dangerous to boot.

So now it's back to picking my way across the desolate, mostly road-less southeastern region of Molag Amur to get to the Telvanni council seat of Sadith Mora. There is simply no adequate shelter to be seen and I fear being caught in an ashstorm while I'm sleeping so I've taken shelter in the arched doorway of a tomb... if things get bad, I can always retreat inside.

* * *

**31 Frostfall, 3E426**

Sadith Mora is the grandest Telvanni settlement I have seen yet. From a few towers a whole city is sprawled out beneath, every building grown right out of the ground and looking like miniature versions of their grand kin. Here I found a decently sized open-air market, a slave market, smiths and clothiers, merchants selling something for every imaginable need. I feel as if I was swindled right away, however, when I was told I needed something called 'Hospitality Papers' to even enter and trade in the city since I was not a member of House Telvanni. It was just a few coins, but it's the principle of such a thing that irks me.

The council house sat on the edge of the city and once I was done at the marketplace I made my way over there, a guide stopping me as I came inside. She asked my business and I explained that I was coming to House Telvanni in hopes that they would name me Hortator. She chuckled, but when I narrowed my eyes she apologized and said she meant no offense by it. Most Telvanni don't take the whole Nerevarine thing very seriously, calling it 'a bunch of absurd stories', but I was more than welcome to make my case. It didn't bother them either way.

I was led into a bizarre circular room surrounded by elevated platforms, a giant purple crystal humming with energy sitting in the center. On each of these stood a person in fine robes so at first I thought they were the councilors, but the guide explained it to me. Each of these was something called a Mouth, a person that speaks for the Telvanni wizards from their distant towers by means of complicated magicka. I asked my guide if they could see and hear what the Mouth experiences as well, to which she nodded.

I stepped forward, introduced myself and held up my ring-hand, asking that House Telvanni do me the honor of naming me Hortator so that I might make a stand against the Sixth House in the name of all of Vvardenfell's people. There was silence, while the Mouths all stared into the crystal, I assumed them to be receiving instructions. Then they turned to me again. All their stories were basically the same, their masters all wanting to assess me in person. I smiled in relief, I had worried greatly about being able to capture the attention of such aloof, strange people. The guide gave me a directory book much like the one I'd been given for Hlaalu and wished me luck with a smirk on her lips.

There are five in total, and one of them must be visited last, the Archmage Gothren, as his vote will only be given to me once the others are secured. One of the other four, Master Neloth, resides here in Sadith Mora. His tower sits at the center of the ring of other, smaller grown mushroom-houses, and was impossible to miss. Like other Telvanni towers there were no stairs, so I was thankful I'd visited the alchemist earlier for levitation potions.

Not even an hour had passed since I was at the council house but I had to actually remind Master Neloth who I was, and even then I wasn't sure he was paying attention, back turned to me and casting some kind of incantation on a vial of frost salts. "Oh yes," he finally said, "I remember now. I called you up here to tell you to your face." And only then did he finally look me in the eye, and only briefly, "No." He went back to his business without another word.

I pressed, asking him why not. He said the whole process was annoying and unnecessary. If it meant nothing to him he should just give me the title, I tried to argue, but he was done talking, simply gesturing at me now to go. Sighing, I flopped into a chair. I couldn't just leave, not like this. I touched my ring, trying to think, closing my eyes, hoping for the inspiration to come to me, but it just wouldn't. No, that eventually came from Neloth himself.

"Are you still here?" He sneered at me on his way over to a bookshelf, then muttering, "How annoying..." I perked up, a smile coming to my face that he didn't see, absorbed in whatever arcane project he was messing with._ Annoying..._ that was it. I knew what I had to do.

I casually got up, stretched, and started pacing the floor, my armor making quite a racket in the near-silent laboratory. Only a fleeting glance from Neloth then, eyebrow raised. But I had only just begun. For my next target, I spotted a half-drank cup of tea sitting on a small table, still steaming with heat. I strode over and pretended to trip over my own foot, bumping the table hard with my hip and knocking the teacup to the floor where it shattered. He glared, but I played innocent, shrugging as if to say 'oops'. Oh, he was determined to ignore me now, I could hear him writing in his logbook furiously as he continued his experiment.

I saw his alchemy table, and went over to that, picking up and inspecting the ingredients and implements. I heard Neloth growl, and then footsteps, and he came over and snatched a scale out of my hand, slamming it back down in place so hard I'm surprised he didn't break it. "Will you get out of here!?" his voice was raised in irritation.

"Name me Hortator," I smiled. He turned and walked away from me, muttering that I'd have to leave sometime. I nodded. "But I can come back tomorrow," I said cheerily, saw him stop in his tracks, and just kept grinning when he looked at me over his shoulder. "And the day after that..."

Like a child having a tantrum he stormed to his desk, flipped his logbook to an empty page and ripped it out. The wizard took up his quill and wrote something on it furiously, then attempted to throw it at me... it merely fluttered to the floor but I ran over to pick it up nonetheless, reading it over. I tried not to laugh aloud at the words as I made my way out of his study, much to his relief I'm sure, and out the door.

_As councilor of House Telvanni, I hereby give my vote for Hortator to the single most irritating person of any race I have ever met, Adarise Salvel. May she choke on it._

_Signed, Master Neloth_


	10. 1-2 Sun's Dusk, 3E426

**1 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

Today I found myself in the familiar territory of Tel Mora, the place where men are apparently not allowed. This time around I know that it is because of the bizarre orders of Mistress Dratha, the councilor I went to see in hopes of getting her vote. The fact that I am not a man at the very least helped... I hoped she wouldn't hold it against me that I was one in a past life. I am told she is the oldest of the councilors, sustaining her life through taboo, disgusting necromantic arts. Of course, Telvanni don't have much of a concept of reverence. On my way in her attendants were quick to warn me that she's getting a little strange in her age and advised me against upsetting her.

Her desire to have more women in power took precedent over just about everything else, shouting out loud enough for the whole tower to hear about how wonderful it was that Nerevar had returned as a woman. Of course she'd give me her vote, she said, having an assistant take down everything by dictation and only penning the signature personally. I thought to myself while I waited for her to find the proper words... I had never considered it from that angle. Is really that strange? Everyone else seems more hung up on the fact that I wasn't born here than with my gender. I suppose it is fine though since it earned me a decent advantage here. I didn't have to negotiate this one at all, it was just handed to me.

This allowed me enough time still left in the day to make a visit to Tel Vos, the tower twisted around a grey stone almost Imperial-looking building. This was the home of Master Aryon, and he turned out to be more ambitious and intriguing than the others I had yet met. He didn't just want to know if I was worthy of the title of Hortator, he wanted something for himself out of the deal too.

The wizard had us both sit down and summoned an attendant in with a bottle of comberry wine and glasses for both of us, and started to explain. See, Aryon had aspirations of becoming the Archmagister of House Telvanni. The current Archmagister, Gothren, would never name me Hortator. He has a most annoying habit of instead of simply telling people no, delaying them indefinitely. And as one of the long-lived Telvanni wizards, he feels he has all the time in the world to do so. When I asked what he suggest I do, I was told, "Kill him."

I admit I was a bit taken aback. Would this not hurt my standing within House Telvanni? To which I was assured this was their traditional way of handling political disputes. Gothren would not be an easy kill, a powerful magister surrounded by attendants, but I saw little alternative if what Aryon said was true. I might very possibly be ageless thanks to my contact with Corprus and literally have eternity to wait, but the rest of Vvardenfell and Morrowind do not. I agreed to do what he asked and to show his faith in our deal, he went ahead and wrote his vote, even though if he took over I would not necessarily need it.

But before I take care of Gothren, I am going to need to see Mistress Therana down in Tel Branora, far to the south, further south than Molag Mar even. I thanked Aryon for his hospitality and advice and decided I would make camp in the Grazelands tonight as I was already here.

I wonder if the Ahemmusa are doing well in their new shelter. I wonder of the affairs of the Urshilaku and Erabenimsun, and hope Falura is still happy with Kaushad among the Zainab. I wonder if Caius is in any trouble in the Imperial City, and if Nels is thinking of me and if he treasures that earring. Do my fellow warriors in the Fighter's Guild wonder where I am? And perhaps, somewhere, does anyone I met in the Temple not despise me? I'm not sure why I am thinking about this. Maybe it's because meeting people like them are part of what drives me forward now, the first real friends and associates and otherwise I ever really made. I'm fighting not just for my own freedom now, but theirs, too.

* * *

**2 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

As if the Sharmat himself is reminding me he exists, I woke well before dawn to the beginnings of an ashstorm starting to bury my supplies and me. I had gotten far from enough sleep but had no choice but to get on the move. Wrapping cloth around my nose and mouth for easier breathing as well as less constant ash taste I set out for what my compass determined was south.

What started off quite unpleasant only got worse the farther I went, and being excessively tired was no help. I found myself again on the rocks of Molag Amur so I knew I was on the right track, when I dropped the compass. Immediately I began to search for it, but the ash was so bad I couldn't make it out. My blood ran cold when I both felt and heard a telltale 'crunch'. My compass was in pieces.

Even if I was able to recognize any landmarks, I sure wouldn't be able to see them. With no visibility at all and the storm not showing any signs of abating, I had no choice but to press on, now with no way to tell which way led to Tel Branora.

What followed was hours of trudging along and hoping to Azura I wasn't going in circles. It felt like days. There was no water to be seen and I ran out of that not long after my clumsiness doomed my compass. I had no idea where I was or where I was going and I had already run my water-skin dry. I grew delirious from the exhaustion and the storm and the thirst, cursing Dagoth Ur in my mind with every step. And eventually, I began to wonder if I would die out there. Every time I thought this I tried to urge my pace to pick up, as it would have been a dishonorable and pointless way for the entirety of my efforts to be lost.

Soon, I heard a humming. At first my mind was playing tricks, but then I could feel the humming, too. I had felt that before, but where? Then I saw, right as I nearly touched it. The Ghostfence. Now I had a landmark. I began to follow it for lack of any other way to go. Eventually, well after it had gotten dark, I found myself at Ghostgate, the Temple fortress outpost and the only way in and out of the fence. Though my tongue was parched and my body aching from weariness I was hesitant to go inside. It was the Temple, after all, the faithful and devoted who have named my existence heresy and my quest an insult. My need was great, but so was my apprehension.

After a bit I decided that dying because I had refused to even ask for help was overrated. I swallowed my pride and went in, remembering not to hide Moon-and-Star although that was my first instinct. It was the same hostel I stayed at when I'd come here for my own pilgrimage and felt the eyes of the other pilgrims on me. I assured the innkeeper I wasn't there to start anything, that I just wanted water and rest, she nodded and accepted my coin but seemed unwilling to speak to me. Stares would avert the moment I tried to catch them but there was little I could do, and the room stayed silent the entire time I passed through. And for once, I couldn't keep my chin up, watching the floor all the way to my assigned quarters.

I've stayed holed up by my bed ever since, afraid to even ask around to see if I can't acquire a working compass but thankfully I don't really need one for now. Come tomorrow I'll just follow the volcanic ravine back to the roads and get everything I need in a settlement that isn't quite as unfriendly.


	11. 3-4 Sun's Dusk, 3E426

**3 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

I wasn't alone when I woke up. In a chair across from me sat an Ordinator, silent, stoic. Demanding to know what he was doing there earned the explanation that the Temple wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I didn't stir up any trouble. Worse, he wouldn't leave so I could dress, making me do so in front of him, something I had to tolerate in prison that invoked a rather unpleasant mood in me from early on in the day. Somehow it was made even more horrible by the fact that he hid behind his Ordinator mask the entire time. I felt disgusting.

Needless to say I was quick to leave Ghostgate, not even looking back. Driven by that bad mood, but refreshed with new water and without the ashstorm slowing me down, I made good time to Molag Mar and passed through only to purchase for myself a shiny new compass. I indulged a bit, investing in one made of finer metals that wouldn't so easily be crushed by accident. Sturdy, but of exquisite craftsmanship, a tiny yet detailed etching of a dragon on the back. It might not be very Dunmeri of a design, but still I cannot help but adore it.

Tel Branora, since it was a clear day, was easy to see across the water and of course there was a gondolier who one could hire to cross the sea. From the outside, it was just like any other Telvanni tower, and Mistress Therana's chambers were only accessible by levitating up to them. When I got inside was when things got strange, though that might not be strong enough of a word.

The first thing I noticed was the eggs. Kwama eggs were sitting in curved rows on the floor, as if marking the sides of a path toward a set of stairs. A nearby table had them all sitting shell-to-shell on the very edges. Then the smell hit me... the eggs had seemed a bit discolored but now I knew them to be rotting. Trying to just ignore it I proceeded on, disgusted, curious and rightfully a little nervous that Therana might be crazier than I had expected. As I drew closer to her quarters I thought I could smell something burning.

And sure enough, there was, but that wasn't the first thing that caught my attention. I turned the corner and found her speaking in lilting tones to a completely unclothed Khajiit slave. The unease on his face matched my own and my grace was lost for a few moments while I stammered that I hadn't meant to interrupt anything and could easily just come back later. Mistress Therana smiled like it was perfectly normal and beckoned me to come in, this is when I noticed a few books slowly burning on a pile of embers behind her. I was anxious indeed, I could deal with xenophobes and fanatics but had no idea how to approach a madwoman.

With a childlike smile she asked if I was there to feed the spiders. I hadn't seen any but I avoided directly answering that, showing her my ring and trying to ask for a vote. It became clear to me fast that I was not going to get through this way, as she just kept rambling about spiders and mispronouncing Hortator. She didn't even seem to recall beckoning me to come see her. I showed her Moon-and-Star but I don't think it even registered in her mind what it meant, but she did at least comment that it was shiny. The slave meanwhile just sat there on the floor looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

Mistress Therana may have been very confused, but she was also easily amused. "Watch this," I persuaded, drawing my sword. I took a few steps back for space, set down my shield, and began to spin my blade, occasionally switching hands but keeping the motion fluid. Oh how her eyes lit up, it was just like a small child. It was a trick I had started doing partially out of boredom at camp and partially to give my left hand a little practice holding a weapon. When I stopped, she applauded enthusiastically.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" She cried. During this time I thanked her while striding over to her desk, writing up the basic words for a vote, all but the signature. Then I told her that if she signed this little piece of paper, I'd do it again, but better. She did with all eagerness so I complied, spinning the blade faster this time and even giving it a couple of tosses into the air, always catching it expertly by the hilt. Pocketing the vote, I told her I had to be on my way and she bid me farewell... she may not have any idea what she just voted on, but I suspect the rest of the Telvanni don't expect me to get it any other way. Except perhaps violence, and striking down a crazy old woman doesn't sit well with my moral code.

* * *

**4 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

Now that I had the votes of all four of the other Telvanni councilors, it was time to go see Archmagister Gothren in Tel Aruhn, and most likely put him to the sword. I made sure to avoid the large slave market there, where I'd procured Falura for the Zainab Ashkhan, worried that I'd have to answer to the slavemistress again. Thankfully I did not even see her.

It was cloudy, windy and cold as I sat outside, sharpening my sword and looking up at the tower in thought. My understanding of magicka has always been... poor. Sure, the Temple tried to teach me some restoration spells, but I was never very good at them. They often failed and I couldn't grasp the principles behind it. This put me at a distinct disadvantage from the very beginning against Gothren, because I would not be able to predict his moves and I had no idea what he would throw at me. Also, I knew he would probably not be alone.

I began to go over the spellscrolls that I had either bought myself or been given, stockpiled for a situation just like this one. One didn't need mastery of the art to be able to use a scroll that a wizard had prepared for them. I set aside one that created a constant aura of restoration, enabling one to heal as they fought. Mistress Dratha had given me a few that summoned Daedric creatures so I picked out the most powerful-looking one of those. Lastly, a scroll that completely paralyzed its target, which would take one of the contenders out of the picture at least temporarily.

I was correct in assuming he wouldn't be alone. When I ascended the tower I came across many attendants, two of which were actually there in his chambers. I assessed them for threat as I passed. One of them was a sorceress, likely not as powerful as the Archmagister but with wizards there is no way to tell by looking. The other was a Wood Elf, his frame nimble like most of his kin, a bow on his back. I made a mental note to keep track of his movements when I made my attack so as not to end up with multiple arrows in me like in the Erabenimsun Camp.

The Archmagister himself was protected by two Dremora, no doubt summoned to our plane by Gothren to serve as bodyguards he wouldn't have to feed or pay. This didn't bode well... it made a total of five I would have to deal with. To make matters worse, they were in a very small room. There was no good way to go about this. My best bet would just have to be to take Gothren down as fast as I could.

But before I could do that, I would have to see if the violence was even necessary. So I approached Gothren with my usual presentation of Moon-and-Star and practiced speech and he regarded that with about as much enthusiasm as if he'd just been told the time of day, only muttering that he'd think about it. I tried to press for a better answer but he was dismissive of me. This was what Aryon warned me about... the stalling. There was simply no getting him to talk to me any further.

It seems he knew what I was about, because the moment I drew my blade he turned about to face me, taking up a balanced stance. I suppose he expected it, if it really is the way Telvanni handle such disputes. I didn't have much time. He was already starting to cast at me but I stopped him with a solid smack to the face by my shield. The Dremora were on me next; the paralyzing scroll disabled one while I dueled the other, and the creature was far weaker than I expected from its intimidating stance. A simple parry and twist disarmed it, but by then my attention was forced onto Gothren again and I could hear footsteps coming hurriedly up to where we were.

Then came the pain. The Archmagister uttered some kind of terrible curse and suddenly every muscle in my body was wracked with agony. I reeled and my back hit the wall, looking up to see him coming at me with a dagger. Luckily for me, he had no idea how to properly wield the weapon and I was able to send it flying with a careful parry. Whatever he cast... it felt worse than the stings of corprus disease, worse than the arrow I took to the back, and my vision went blurry in shock. It even hurt to breathe.

By now I could see that his associates had decided to join in on the fun. The Bosmer was readying his bow when I just barely managed to use the summoning scroll. I didn't expect what appeared. A Daedra that looked like a woman with golden skin and armor materialized when I used it, wielding a large halberd. The creature did not even wait for orders, understanding what I wanted and charging full-on at the archer much to his surprise. I wasn't able to watch, however. Gothren was casting again and I already could barely stand while he didn't have a scratch on him. This wasn't exactly going as planned... not that I had a good plan to begin with. I slumped against the wall somewhat and saw the Archmagister grin, thinking he had this fight won already. I growled at him in frustrated futility as he began to prepare another spell.

I suddenly remembered my last scroll; the one of restoration. With all haste I activated it. It didn't immediately alleviate the pain, but I felt myself more energized and capable, and was able to stand up straight again. The Daedra I'd summoned was fending off the Archmagister's attendants so I still had a chance. I slashed him across the front, his robes tore and I spilled blood but this wasn't enough; he backed away, trying to get the space to start healing himself. But I couldn't let him. Fighting every weakened muscle I pursued him into the corner of his room, and looked right into his eyes as they faded when my blade ran through his gut. The Dremora dissolved into thin air, the magic that held them on this plane unbound with Gothren's death. I'm not sure what drove me to such vindictiveness even now, except that the fire that sometimes burned within me had decided to come out in force and direct my actions.

I'd accomplished what I came to do, in any case. Now it was time to get out, hopefully without having to take any more lives. The sorceress had seen through my distraction a bit too late, she seemed angered to find her master dead but she wasn't conscious long. I put the bloodied flat to the side of her head and she crumpled to the floor. The Daedra was still keeping the Bosmer occupied so I was able to flee past him, ignoring his angered shouts. And thus I managed to flee the tower, running across the open ocean with help of a potion so none could follow. I was pleased that I avoided killing any of Gothren's attendants... they did not deserve death, and perhaps he didn't either, but he'd left me with no choice. A true Telvanni would understand, right?


	12. 5-7 Sun's Dusk, 3E426

**5 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

I didn't sleep last night, though I tried. Gothren's curse persisted on me and I was in pain for hours, but even when it subsided I found myself too troubled to lie down and close my eyes. Even though I still have another Great House to deal with, I am starting to feel the fear of the unknown again. After I've united the tribes and the Houses under the name of Nerevar Moon-and-Star, what comes next? Will that mean I am ready to face the Sharmat? Because I most certainly do not feel ready. How exactly does one kill a god?

When dawn broke I still had no answers. Not feeling nearly exhausted as I should following a sleepless night I went back to Tel Vos to give Aryon the news I had no doubt he already had thanks to the bizarre Telvanni ways. Nonetheless, now all my votes would be given to him, and he would be the one to name me Hortator. Which, of course, he did... I held up my end of the arrangement very well and we both now have the titles we sought. Aryon even summoned one of his attendants to see to the lingering effects of the curse and had me feeling better in mere minutes. I was given a robe, one I don't think will fit over my armor but I will keep nonetheless as a symbol of station. Apparently it is centuries old and has not been worn since the existence of the last Telvanni Hortator. I'm sure he would have regaled me with that story if I asked but my mind was dulled from lack of sleep, so I was anxious to just be on my way.

Now-Archmagister Aryon's parting words to me were of warning; House Telvanni may need some 'adjusting time' as he called it. That, and the Temple Ordinators are extending the label of heretic to anyone that is associated with me. This is troubling news. Houses Hlaalu and Telvanni and the Ashlanders won't be terribly bothered by this, but traditionalist House Redoran tends to take such Temple declarations very seriously. Furthermore, it could spell trouble for civilians and others that I've spent time with. I hope Nels is as crafty as he claims to be, for his own sake.

Two Houses down, one to go. House Redoran remains. Thankfully I already know where they mostly reside... in Ald'ruhn. My memory of the Redoran guards from that place is rather distinct; untrusting of foreigners, loyal to the Temple, adhering to their own code of honor.

* * *

**6 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

I used to think that I would love nothing more than to be a great hero. But I used to be mistaken about a good many things. When I was turned loose on Vvardenfell with no explanation and a plan I knew nothing of being constructed around me, I would have never seen days like these coming. I recall asking in the Temple, "Saint Nerevar? Who was that?" I remember praying to the Tribunal and refusing to believe the awful things that I now know to be truth about their history. I piously quoted my own traitors to people, unknowingly urging them to keep faith in a false religion. I've even lost track of how many of my own people I have had to put to the sword out of necessity. I wonder how many more must die.

So says the prophecy of the Stranger: Many fall, but one remains, I suppose. Perhaps I am losing my mind. I have been two days now without sleep, making that a distinct possibility. First night was due to pain and an overactive mind and the second because I walked into another choking ashstorm and could find nowhere to shelter. So, as in so many other things, I had no choice. I don't think I actually get to choose anything, it's not part of the prophecy bit. Everything was chosen for me when I was born... no, long before that. It was chosen for me in the First Era when I as Nerevar was betrayed. First the godless Dwemer, then House Dagoth, then the Three.

Such were the maddening thoughts I couldn't shake from my mind during my entire trek across the Ashlands, even as I followed the volcanic ravine down to Ald'ruhn and the ashstorm cleared up. The whole thing set my head aching and ruined my appetite. I am either succumbing to lack of rest or soul sickness from the Mountain, it is hard to tell. Perhaps it is both and they are compounding each other, my weariness making me more vulnerable to insane thoughts.

Even though it is only afternoon, perhaps I should take a very, very long rest through the night and see if I cannot right myself by tomorrow.

* * *

**7 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

It was still not light when I heard a knocking at my door in the tavern. Lethargic, I pulled myself out of bed, thankful I had at least gotten some amount of slumber though I couldn't really be sure how much. I barely recall getting into bed.

At my door was one of the locals, a woman who ducked into my room fearfully as soon as I opened it. Untrusting of anyone in these parts I tried to usher her away but what was I supposed to do when she begged me to just hear her out? She shut the door behind her and told me of how a strange man had come into her house and would not leave. Practically sobbing she said he'd been there for hours and just stood there talking to himself and stacking her furniture in bizarre ways. I could have easily said it wasn't my problem and told her to have the Redoran guard deal with it, instead I gently asked, why come to me?

Because she suspected he might have corprus disease, the woman explained, lowering her voice cautiously and stammering just a bit. If I was who I said I was, she almost muttered, I was the only one that could safely deal with it. If by this act I could get a Temple believer to believe I was truly Nerevar, so be it. Bidding her to follow so that she could unlock the door, we went out in the night to her house. There was no ash, only wind, but it still smelled of fire and earth.

She unlocked it and stood back, fearful. I went in, throwing it shut behind me so that this was between me and the intruder. He was easy to find in the tiny home, stacking chairs on top of one another so high they looked about to topple. Well, that sort of explained the times I had seen it before in Sixth House shrines... I guess. I called out, he merely glanced at me and returned to his task, picking up the last of the chairs and muttering to himself strangely. Taking a couple of steps closer I held out my ring-hand. "Hey n'wah, look at this," I said. He dropped the chair and stared at me now. "Now that I have your attention," I went on, "get out of this house, it isn't yours."

With that he snapped the leg off one of the chairs and came at me with it. In any other situation I might have found that amusing. I blocked and knocked him backwards, his strike weak, efforts futile. At this moment, though, I was coming to terms with the fact that it just wasn't safe to let him leave this place alive. His mind and whoever he may have been before were gone; I could smell the disease. He was too much of a risk to those around him now, too violent. Killing people like Orvas Dren who had chosen their side brought a feeling of victory with it. This kill did not.

The woman eyed the blood on my blade when I came back out, but thanked me nonetheless, saying she would follow my advice to have someone from the local Mages' Guild incinerate what was left. Still tired, with the sun showing no sign of coming out soon, I made my way back to the tavern and slept as soon as I had my sword clean.


	13. 7-8 Sun's Dusk, 3E426

**7 Sun's Dusk, 3E426, continued**

By the time I woke again it seemed it'd been light for some time, and I saw people settling in for lunch. I ordered a raw kwama egg broken over boiled saltrice; a basic but hearty dish that always manages to wake me up. Talking to the locals, I learned that all of House Redoran's higher-ups reside in the gigantic, hollowed-out shell of a crab. I'd visited the shops in that district before, but never the residences. I recalled the eerie way my steps echoed on the inside of the shell and the immaculate, detailed tilework inside the shops.

As with the other two Houses, I found the council hall and guide and was given a directory. Thankfully they are all located right here in the crab Ald Skar, so unlike with Telvanni I will not have excruciating travel times between councilors.

The first Redoran councilor I met Miner Arobar. Now I was faced with the troubling fact that nary a person in Morrowind didn't know who I was and what I was calling myself. I wasn't even allowed to introduce myself properly, interrupted with a snide tone. No speeches, no excuses, he told me angrily. He accused me of taking Nerevar's name in blasphemy and said that the very leader of the Ordinators had warned him of a False Incarnate being set up as the Empire's puppet. And yet, I didn't exactly get a 'no' from him either. I was dismissed nonetheless, a bit encouraged when Arobar told me to give him time to think. When I thought over it after I realized he hadn't actually been all that hostile... there has to be some way to win this one.

Brara Morvayn was to be found in the council hall itself, in one of the numerous rooms. The entire hall was designed wonderfully with colored tiles decorating nearly the whole of the walls and ceiling. It's no surprise anymore when it happens but most of the attendants on duty refused to talk to let alone guide me, so I was on my own locating her. I thought she would be easier to talk to and more understanding of what we face, seeing as she only sits on the council now because of her husband's recent death to ash creatures. So said the talk in the inn, anyway. While I was right about what happened to her family I was wrong about her being more open to the idea of naming me Hortator. Instead I was shown a horrible little piece of paper that the Ordinators have been dealing out:

_The outlaw named Adarise Salvel, lately called 'Incarnate' and 'Nerevarine,' now is shown to the investigating Ordinators and Magistrates of this district to be an agent in the pay of the Imperial Intelligence Service. This outlaw's claims are false. The prophecies this outlaw cites are discredited. The dishonest character and base purposes of the outlaw in perpetrating this hoax are now made clear to all observers._

To call me dishonest is some fine hypocrisy indeed. Morvayn insisted she couldn't help me and I got the hint that she was trying to get rid of me, dismissing myself to spare the embarrassment. However... she did not tell me specifically no, just that she found it all far too troubling. Redoran is being even more difficult than I imagined. Stubbornness and indecisiveness are simply infuriating when combined. I couldn't just put an entire council to the sword (and I am slightly perturbed that I considered it), there must be a way to open their minds.

It would seem councilor Athyn Sarethi may be that key. After hearing me out and assessing me for a few moments, he drew the conclusion that whether I actually_ am_ Nerevar or not, I very well _believe_ that I am and I'm not being dishonest. He asked for a couple of hours to pay visits to his fellow councilors to chat about it, which I obliged as I was getting hungry anyway.

Not more than one hour had passed before I was found by one of Sarethi's attendants and sent to see him 'with all haste'. The man seemed tense when I arrived and his wife ducked into another room when I came in; I thought I could hear her crying. The reason for this all became clear shortly. Athyn's son had been kidnapped by their own Archmaster Bolyn Venim. I was stunned. What reason could there be for such treachery between the leaders of a Great House? He had talked too freely, the councilor said with a sigh, running his hand over his face. He'd spoken of the need for a Hortator and to even mention a foreigner for the position angered the Archmaster so badly it was taken as treasonous. Venim's supporters had dragged off the younger Sarethi to use as political leverage against his own councilor... I suppose this is just another of the very strange ways the Houses handle conflict.

If I can retrieve his son, however, he will give me his vote, and persuade the rest of the council to do the same since he wields considerable influence. I asked if this would be terribly hurtful for my chances to negotiate with Venim himself, since ultimately I would need his vote too. But as with the Telvanni and Gothren, I would never secure the vote of the Archmaster, even if I left the Sarethi situation be. His contempt for foreigners doesn't seem to know logical bounds, so it seems I am doomed to eventually conflict with him either way.

Personally, however, I'd like it to be much cleaner than the chaotic mess of a fight I had with Gothren. Perhaps a proper duel challenge will be in order, when the time comes.

* * *

**8 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

I suppose I should just be glad I'm making this entry at all.

I woke this morning and rather than put on my armor I donned a plain robe, a drape over that to hide my sword, and a shawl that covered my hair and face. I would try subtlety for once, see if I could not bluff my way in and sneak the young Sarethi out. With a packet of herbs to use as a cover story I went back to Skar and entered Venim Manor, hoping no one recognized me along the way.

Athryn Sarethi had given me directions in the best detail he knew how about where in the manor he thought his son was being kept. I got into the main entryway generally disregarded, asking with a faked rasp to my voice if anyone would like to buy fresh herbs. I don't think a single soul was even looking when I slipped into the right wing of the manor and began to look for signs of a captive.

A single guard was alone in the large room. I eyed the adjacent hallways for signs of anyone coming; now was my chance. As she passed the stair I slipped up behind her and held my blade against her side, my other hand twisting her arm behind her back enough to hold her still but not hurt. Apologizing for what I had to do and advising her to keep quiet, I inquired as to the young noble's whereabouts; she pointed to a door at the end of a short hallway, scoffing. Nonetheless, she was complacent when I used her own torn-up sash to tie her up and gag her and shut her into a small storage closet.

I took her keys and it was several very nervous tries before I found the one that opened the door. Varvur Sarethi, sure enough, was inside, looking afraid of me at first thinking I was with Venim's people. I didn't have time to tell my full story to him but I saw his eyes on my ring when I seized his wrist and began to lead him out of the right wing. We were going to have to make a break for it, I explained, telling him that as soon as we reached the entry hall I wanted him to run as fast as he could and not look back. A fearful nod from him. It would have to do.

Nobles are not exactly taught how to run for very fast or very long. I found that Varvur was dragging my speed down below what I really needed it to be. Nonetheless I pulled him along with all my might, hearing the angered shouts of Venim's people behind us. As we passed by the miniature indoor garden in the entryway the branches of a roobush caught my shawl and pulled it clean off my head, exposing my face to all present. I cursed, but could do nothing to help it or reverse the damage. There was no stopping now. I practically threw poor exhausted Varvur out the front door of Venim manor and used an alteration scroll to lock it, which would buy us enough time to get to sanctuary in Sarethi manor. Athyn was grateful to have his son back and immediately started preparing to set up a meeting between the rest of the Redoran councilors. Assuring me he would change their minds he sent me off to rest for a while.

I didn't get to enjoy much of that break. As I sat eating I was approached by three Redoran guards. They towered over me, and as I began to ask what they needed, they let me know. One took my chair out from under me with a swipe of his foot and the other put his knee in my back right after so that I couldn't get up. The third bound my hands behind my back and I was roughly picked up and made to walk with them.

People stopped what they were doing to stare as I was pushed out into the streets of Ald'ruhn. They took their time about it too, parading me like my capture was some great victory. They didn't say a word the entire time, ignoring me when I pressed about what I was being charged with. Eventually I was led out of the town entirely and toward the Legion fort to the south, I suppose there is no prison in the city proper so they use this one. It is eerily like my old cell in the Imperial City, but I should not dwell on that. No, I should continue to focus on being released if I can.

The Imperials, at the very least, freely told me what I've been charged with. The accusations are twofold; disturbance of the peace, and assault. My sentence, not yet decided, but I cannot challenge the charges until one is set. They confiscated everything but this journal and my ring: my warning that Moon-and-Star would kill them instantly was met with skepticism but none of them were bold enough to call my bluff so I still have it, and I still have this tome for my thoughts. I cannot stand it; looking at the door of my cell and knowing that I cannot pass it, that this small box of a room is my world for at least the time being. I refuse to even imagine being here for long.

I will find a way. It is said the Incarnate cannot fail... but If ever I could really use the support of my people, it is now.


	14. 9-11 Sun's Dusk, 3E426

**9 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

I awoke to the sound of my cell door being opened and my name being called. The guard led me down to the main hall of the Legion fort, and there I found waiting for me Athyn Sarethi. It was explained to me that I was being released. He had paid and negotiated my way out for me. On the walk back to Ald'ruhn I offered to pay him back but he told me to consider us even now. I'd freed his son, and he'd freed me. He did have something else for me, however. Before I went back to the inn to retrieve the things I'd had to leave behind at the time of arrest, he placed a stack of papers in my hand- the votes of all the Redoran councilors, even the ones I had not personally met, all except the Archmaster himself.

Athyn went back to his family, and I went to prepare myself to meet with Bolvyn Venim. I washed out the stench of prison, had a decent meal, and put on my full armor and all the old talismans and ceremonial robe. Nothing less than the full Nerevarine regalia would do. This man was the last obstacle standing between me and a Vvardenfell united under the Moon-and-Star. The fourth and fifth trials must be completed.

I entered the manor with my hand on my sword-hilt and my chin held high, in spite of my fear. My body language advertised that I knew I was not welcome but did not very well care. And unwelcome I certainly was. One of the attendants stood in my way with a hateful look on his face. Bowing my head respectfully for a brief moment I then addressed him just as I would a noble, saying that I would see Bolvyn Venim. He tried to tell me no. My reply was that I did not ask, I stated, and allowed my hand to fidget on the hilt. I heard the whole room shuffle as if they were collectively finding their own weapons, but nothing more than that... good, I thought, I have them nervous. The man moved out of my way after that, but the hostility in his expression didn't fade.

Venim was expecting me, as was quite obvious. He seemed livid, barely holding it in when I entered the room, introduced myself as graciously as I could (partially for the mischief of it, I confess) and handed him the votes from the other councilors. The Archmaster was silent as he looked each one over... and then threw them on the ground. "I don't care what you did to trick them, but it won't work on me." He crossed his arms sternly. "This has gone far enough. I will not see an Outlander and a heretic named Hortator of this House." I was then treated to a several-minute rant about how House Redoran had kept its traditions in spite of the Empire's 'constant meddling'. I tried to explain that I had not much love for the Empire myself, that I had no choice in my birth... but he wasn't listening, talking over me, interrupting, rude and stubborn.

Finally, once it seemed he'd run out of words for a few moments, I said I would do anything I had to in order to be named Hortator and fulfill the prophecy and if he would not work with me, he was an obstacle. I heard some scraping of steel then and saw Bolvyn Venim signal to someone behind me to halt, most certainly one of his bodyguards. "Then we settle this the old way," he said. "You and I meet in the Arena in Vivec within the next week. If you flee then your claim is forfeit. The fight is not over until one of us lies dead."

I bowed graciously, "May the best warrior emerge victorious."

* * *

**10 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

Since I had entire week to choose when I would be forced to fight and shed more honorable blood in the name of prophecy, I took one of these days as a full vacation. I made my way south to Pelagiad eagerly, seeing my favorite bandit foremost on my mind.

Nels found me instead, a bit before I entered town, and I noticed he had actually pierced his own ear to put in the earring I had left in his hand after our last meeting. Much to my surprise he ran up and embraced me, and I let myself return the gesture. I told him where I was going and why, he seemed impressed. He would attend the duel himself, he explained, if he wasn't in some law trouble in Vivec. I laughed, unsurprised, but said he'd probably know within hours how it had gone.

We spent the day mostly in the tavern itself, where he taught me how to play a gambling game involving dice and addition that I'm still not sure I understand well. Crafty fetcher won about a hundred pieces of my gold before it was all said and done, and what few rounds I did win only served to reduce that amount by a bit. Not being terribly attached to wealth, I don't mind, and I was having too much fun to care. I then challenged him to something I was good at: arm wrestling. Nels may be quicker than me and smarter than me, but when it comes to pure strength I have him completely outdone.

Since he's won so much of my gold I'm making him cover the room tonight, seeing if we can't get the same one we had on our last lovely meeting. I must remember to take it easy on the liquor this time if I hope to be in fighting shape tomorrow.

* * *

**11 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

As I promised Nels, I woke him up when I was preparing to leave rather than just letting him sleep. We dressed and he walked with me until I reached the edge of town, yawning the whole way... I do not think he's used to getting up before dawn. Just after we'd said our farewells he snapped his fingers and bade me to wait just a moment. He sped back to the inn and then darted back to me with something in his hand, cursing himself for nearly forgetting.

It was an earring, a smooth loop made of pure Ebony with a band of gold across the center. Simplistic in design but formed of one of the rarest, finest materials known to mortals. Immediately I put it in the empty space made by the one I'd given him, having to force and bleed it a bit to do so. On impulse I embraced him in thanks, and then let him go back to the tavern and doubtlessly crawl back into bed.

It does the soul good to take a break like that, indulge in fun and games and good company, so I didn't feel quite as grim as I expected on the road to Vivec. Venim and his people had already arrived by silt-strider, or so said the Arena master, and if I was ready to announce my arrival then the duel could be arranged to take place in the Arena in three hours. That was long enough to prepare myself.

I was shown into a small training room and left to my own devices to get ready. Since I was in Vivec where Imperial goods are more easily found, I paid one of the arena attendants to go and procure for me some roast boar and fruit, which he tracked down within the hour. I tipped him well enough to buy a week's worth of food, and while stammering he ensured me that if I needed anything else I would have it.

It was a very, very long three hours. I ate every scrap of the hearty food and practiced a few swings, ran through a few maneuvers, and then sat down to meditate. There was a constant sound, one I couldn't identify until it got louder, which it gradually did the entire time. It was a crowd. People were gathering in the balconies above the arena floor. Word of the duel had spread like a wildfire. The two fighters and the things we represent make this conflict bigger than just myself and Venim. Temple-faithful traditionalist Archmaster of House Redoran faces down the Imperial-born heretic Dunmer woman who claims to be Nerevar reborn. Who wouldn't want to see it?

After what seemed like far more than three hours a knock came at the door. It was time. I was led up to a doorway that opened into the dirt-covered arena pit. Bolvyn Venim was already standing out there, clad in full Ebony armor and holding a nasty-looking sword in both hands. I began my own walk into the center. People were shoulder-to-shoulder and crowding each other to see down, but were oddly quiet as soon as both challengers were in the ring. Looking up briefly I could see some of the other Redoran councilors, including Sarethi, were here. I spotted a few of the Hlaalu as well, probably attending out of curiosity. He put out his blade, and I raised mine, tapped the swords together to signal the start of the fight and we both scrambled back right after for space.

We circled for a few moments and sized up each other's stance and movements. Venim struck first, swinging at me from the left. I backed out of range and he came at me from the other side. Dodging again I got around to the side of him and knocked him off-balance with my shield. He made a very fast recovery, lowering his blade and rushing at me in a thrust. I parried, sidestepped and he did it again, I was forced to block this time because I got a little too close to the arena wall but I took the moment I had afterward to back-step a little ways back toward the center. Neither of us were really putting any fight into it yet, cautiously testing one another, warming up our skills and growing accustomed to our opponent. Deciding it was my turn I brought my sword upon him in a downward swing, which he blocked with his own blade, and he did the same with swings from either side. When I came at him low he parried, quite easily in fact because his sword was so much heavier than my own. What I also began to notice was how slow this made his swings in comparison to mine. Compounded with the fact that he was larger and older than myself, I was starting to see where my advantage lay.

Bolvyn was tired of toying around now. His swings actually started to have real force behind them, and one that struck my shield hit so hard I felt myself sink into the dirt a little. I got serious too, but put most of my energy into just keeping out of range, dancing in and out of the range of his deadly blade, going for low strikes when I could. First blood was not my honor to claim in this fight. One of the Archmaster's strikes broke a piece of my armor and the blade dragged across my arm when he pulled it back, leaving a nasty gash. This got me determined to strike back and I went on the offensive, forcing him to keep blocking and moving back until I saw a small opening where the breastplate and pauldron of his armor connected. I gave him a chance to swing, raising my shield to meet it and lunging forward to stick the tip of my blade deep into the shoulder of his dominant arm, yanking it back.

He started to get angry after that, which eventually would only hurt him but for the time being gave him some added vigor. Venim came down upon me with a vicious two-handed downward strike and I raised my shield to block it, the force of it enough to nearly knock me down. With a jolt of severe pain I felt the bones in my wrist snap and give way. My shield buckled. I threw myself to the side, scrambling back to my feet, my shield rather limply hanging on my arm in a telltale manner. He didn't give me much time to contemplate how bad it was, coming at me again with a side-swing. I blocked it but this sent another bolt of pain down my entire body and my arm could barely hold the shield up like this.

I couldn't rely on it. I had to start relying on agility and avoidance and parries to keep that sword from chopping up my armor any more. Since it was little more than dead weight causing me unnecessary pain now I pulled the shield off my arm and let it fall into the dirt. Much to my surprise, however, Venim didn't charge again, standing up straight and tapping his sword two times in the dirt. The signal for a time-out. I nodded and repeated the gesture in acknowledgement.

A handful of his people poured out of the doorway on the opposite side and he went over to them, accepting a water-skin and listening to them advise him. All I had was the attendant I had paid earlier, but he was very encouraging, bringing me water and wine and tending the gash in my arm. I had him wrap up my wrist tight with bandages but not splint it yet: it might hurt horribly but I may still need to move it. I downed my glass of wine in a single go to help ease the pain, got plenty of water and poured the rest over my face for the sheer refreshment of it. I refused when I was offered a lighter replacement shield; anything flimsier than the hunk of dwemer metal I carry around would just break under his powerful strikes. I was better off just fighting without the extra weight.

The respite was only a few minutes before I saw Bolvyn Venim marching haughtily into the center of the ring again, and I went out to meet him. We tapped swords and the fight resumed. Right away I barely dodged a swing that would've taken my head off and resumed the dance of staying just out of his range. The only problem with this was that my sword didn't have anywhere close to the range of his, so I was hard-pressed to even get a swing in. He dealt another strong blow and I blocked with my own blade, but he kept up the pressure, perhaps hoping to break my other wrist too. I was forced down to a knee and it was not looking very good, but then I saw an opening.

Throwing myself against the ground I rolled away from the attack, and before he could stab at me while I was down there I put my sword right into the vulnerable point of his armor in the back of the knee. He dropped his blade and I pulled it away, kicking it behind me as I pulled myself back to my feet. The Archmaster fell to his knees as I reclaimed my sword from his flesh, and I set it against his throat. He glared at me hatefully. "It's a duel to the death." Venim's voice was low, growling. "What are you waiting for, you s'wit?" I sighed.

"If that's what you want," I said, and then with a clean swing I put an end to it. Still catching my breath and covered in dirt, my dented-up armor now splattered with the Archmaster's blood, I looked up at the gathered crowd. No cheers, or jeers, just stunned silence. I then just turned my attention forward and marched back out of the pit to go have a wash.

Athyn Sarethi was waiting for me as I walked out with a ring which, like the belt from House Hlaalu and the robe from House Telvanni, serve as a symbol of my new station. So completes the fourth and fifth trials. I tried to dismiss myself but as soon as we opened the door there stood a woman in Temple robes, regarding me coldly. She handed me a package and left without speaking a single word.

The letter inside was long and worded superfluously indeed but the general idea seemed to be that the Archcanon of the Temple itself wishes to meet with me and inspect the validity of my claims. Perhaps by the support I have won I have left them with no choice but to consider it, or perhaps this is merely an elaborate trap. I will not go immediately, but I feel that I must at least give it a chance. I will be taking a scroll of Divine Intervention just in case.

But for now, I need to rest...


	15. 12 Sun's Dusk, 3E426

**12 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

My nerves felt like rope pulled taut and about to snap. I ordered a large breakfast but could barely eat any of it, downing what I could but my stomach refusing to take any more. I thought perhaps some liquor would calm me down but I cannot say I would exactly respect a Nerevarine that showed up to the Temple in the High Fane smelling like alcohol so instead I went outside to watch the sunrise.

I remember when sunrises were so beautiful and new to me that I was brought almost to tears. So it was again today for the first time in what feels like forever, though I suspect the reasons are different. I have come to love this land, even though it is dangerous and at times inhospitable. I think I would grow bored if set free in a soft place like Cyrodiil. I have come to understand the soul of my people, their calculated savagery, loyalty, pride and honor, and their indomitable spirit and embracing of adversity. My words and sword have won over friends and enemies. I was able to fulfill the first five trials and my spirit has not broken, it has only gotten stronger, shaped by fire and tempered by persecution.

I decided to leave my armor behind and don the Hortator robe, sash and put the ring on the other hand, all three Houses represented. All I carried was my sword and I left in the beaded earrings; I have gotten so used to them that I don't feel quite right when I take them out. The ebony one, of course, stayed as well. Tucking the scroll I'd bought the day before into my belt so that I could reach for it at a moment's notice, I felt ready to head to the Temple. My heart beat as if I was walking into an enemy stronghold, though I struggled not to think of it as such.

Danso Indules, the Healer for the High Fane, was waiting for me outside. She regarded me with dismissive neutrality but said the Archcanon was in his private study, and darted off to notify him. I wasn't left waiting too long, thankfully. Within minutes she was back outside and gesturing for me to enter the Temple itself.

The study was right ahead when I went in, and an Ordinator stood up as soon as I entered and began to follow me. I dared not argue with this and just allowed it, eyeing him as he seated himself in a corner of the room. The Archcanon, High Reverend Tholer Saryoni, was sitting behind a desk of exquisite make and silently gestured for me to do the same in a chair across from him. He sat down his quill and propped his elbows on the table, leaning forward, staring me down.

Saryoni asked if I knew Temple doctrine regarding the Nerevarine, to which I replied I did. The crisis was worsening, he explained. The Temple could no longer save the people of Vvardenfell from Dagoth Ur so, he said after a very long pause indeed, it was perhaps time for that doctrine to change. I can't imagine the look on my face, so stunned I was. I didn't get a chance to get my mind scrambled back together before he was looking me in the eye and asking me if I would consent to a meeting with Vivec himself. I approved of the idea ahead of it actually sinking in. Halfway entranced I took a key he handed me and the Archcanon chuckled to himself, saying that "Lord Vivec knew you would say yes."

A few moments later and I was outside again. It was not even far into the morning yet and I was standing outside Vivec's Palace with the key to the door in my hand, my feet in the same place they were when I wandered here by some compulsion before. Suddenly I very much wanted my armor, if only for the sense of security it gave me, but I knew my mind was just trying to make excuses for me to delay this meeting. I suppose reunion is a better word. I did not feel afraid exactly, but apprehensive. I am not sure how long I stood there with my fingers tracing the shape of Moon-and-Star to soothe my thoughts but once I snapped out of it I began the walk up the stairs to see a very old friend, praying to the spirit within me for guidance.

Cross-legged and two-toned, his left side like a Dunmer and right side like a Chimer, Vivec levitated gently in the center of the room. Glowing, piercing eyes locked onto me and I knew I was in the presence of great power, though I did not feel fear... just unmistakable familiarity. I shut the door behind me and stepped into dim firelight. Neither of us spoke for several moments, and then, quite unexpectedly, the god smiled.

"I expected you. We have business, you and I." The sound of his voice surprised me, deeper than I'd anticipated, an otherworldly quality to it and yet melodious.

My words in reply were simple. "Yes, we do."

Promising to keep our business short and looking uncannily relaxed, Vivec backed up Saryoni's words that a change needed to be made in Temple doctrine. He would end the persecution of the Dissidents and proclaim me Incarnate and Nerevarine. It all seemed so simple, after everything that happened. I couldn't help but feel exceedingly offended. That was it, that was all? Vivec would just snap his fingers and fix everything? After all the harm his actions had caused, after all the betrayal and agony and death? The god sensed my unease in the silence, for he spoke up again.

"You want to chide me," he correctly assumed. "Why did I murder Nerevar? Why did I break my oath to Azura not to use Kagrenac's tools? Why did I cause others to suffer?"

I crossed my arms, raising my chin a bit in defiance. "You read me well, Vivec, I will admit that. I will not trouble you with the first two, for their answers are the same. Of these I am most concerned with the fact that you have caused so much anguish and death among the people you claim to love."

Vivec's smile faded a bit and his eyes left me, staring into space, doubtlessly seeing things I could not as he spoke. "I respect that question and you for it. The most I can say is: I did the best I could, as I saw things. Can you, mortal, presume to judge the actions and motives of a god? But, because I need you, and you need me, I will make an accounting for my sins, to you. But not now. Destroy Dagoth Ur, and then we will discuss my sins. Then, perhaps, you will have earned the right to judge me."

I lowered my head in thought. That was a fair point, I conceded. "Very well," I looked up and into his otherworldly eyes. "I then hereby give my oath before all gods and spirits, men and mer, before my honor and yours, Vivec, that I will destroy Dagoth Ur."

He chuckled, but it was not in mockery. Perhaps he was seeing glimpses of his long-dead friend in me, for he seemed quite pleased. I still felt wary of him, choosing to listen to the part of my mind that insisted this god-being before me was absolutely not to be trusted. With a bizarre gesture of his hand there appeared a gauntlet of amazingly intricate dwemer make.

"It is Wraithguard." By Vivec's bidding the artifact gently floated over to me, and I accepted it in my outstretched hands. "But first you must know how to use it. Don't be alarmed. You are being taken out of time to avoid the unpleasant experience of learning to do so. It will be over before-"

I felt a strange floating sensation and all around me was dark... but it lasted only a half-second. Disoriented when my feet were on solid ground again, I looked around and found myself just where I'd been before and Vivec was still finishing his sentence. "-you know it."

In order to be able to do any real harm to Dagoth Ur and put an end to his mad projects, I will need to sever his connection to the Heart of Lorkhan. And to do that, I will need all three of Kagrenac's Tools, which means I will have to recover the other two from the ash vampires who keep them in their dwemer citadels beyond the fence. Wearing Wraithguard I am to strike the Heart once with Sunder and twice with Keening. This will sever his- as well as the Tribunal's- connection to the divine power forever. Vivec admitted this could very well lead to all of their deaths, but doesn't seem particularly concerned. A being like him has a lot of time to come to terms with such things, perhaps. I wonder if Almalexia and Sotha Sil agree.

Vivec advised me to take great caution and always have a contingency plan when I went beyond the Fence, for if I carried Wraithguard my death or capture would mean it would fall into Dagoth Ur's hands. With all three artifacts, there would never again be hope of putting a stop to his plans. My mind was still heavy with questions, but they were of lesser importance, inquiries about the past, about my old life, about small curiosities that crossed my thoughts from time to time. They could wait. I now had everything I needed and a real plan, and though I may not trust Vivec still, I am grateful for his help and glad he did not refuse me. Old squabbles can be settled when there is peace.


	16. 13-15 Sun's Dusk, 3E426

**13 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

By the light of a grey afternoon I arrived in the Temple fortress of Ghostgate. My reception was the complete opposite of the last time I was here, and I tried not to be resentful about it. Rather than prepare on my own I spoke to the Ordinators and Armigers stationed here for information. Despite not being able to go into the bounds of the fence for about three years due to the Sharmat's growing strength, they were still able to provide me with maps of the citadels that lay within. The biggest and most dangerous being, of course, the citadel in the crater itself. I knew without being told that Dagoth Ur was inside that citadel.

I kept a confident air when I was around them, but when I retired to the rather nice room they set aside for me, alone with my thoughts, I felt cold. Fearful is not the word. Apprehension is perhaps a more accurate description. It's all because this... this is it. My entire life has been directing me to this. I succeed, or I die, there is no middle ground. Would I still be here if I could choose it, rather than it being chosen for me? I guess that really doesn't matter. I can't let such things cloud my mind, not now.

So to keep the clutter in my thoughts to a bare minimum I put a lot of that clutter into letters. Secret, sealed letters that will only be delivered to their intended recipients if I do not return to Ghostgate within a week from my departure. I won't write their contents here, as this account will be passed down no matter the outcome, but such words as I put into those letters I would only have heard if I have fallen at Red Mountain. I wrote long letters for Caius Cosades of the Blades, Mehra Milo of the Dissidents, Urshilaku wise woman Nibani Maesa, the former slave Falura Llervu, Han-Ammu of the Erabenimsun, Athyn Sarethi of House Redoran, and of course the crafty Nels Llendo. I put them all into a box and gave them to the Mistress of the Temple here for safe-keeping. If I return successfully, I will burn them.

I will spend the rest of my evening in meditation in front of the Shrine of Saint Nerevar, in hopes that invoking the spirit within me will lend me strength and guidance against the powerful enemy I now go against.

* * *

**14 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

I don't know if it's night or day, but I'm exhausted already. I've barricaded the door of the Dwemer citadel I am now resting in, having cleared out the tainted inhabitants. In my paranoia I even set up noise traps around the small room I've picked out for myself... I must have respite but I cannot take any risks about it. It smells awful, but it will have to do for shelter. I am too tired to make it back to Ghostgate.

There is no visibility out there. It is as if the worst ashstorm I ever experienced has been compounded on itself. The sky is so choked with ash I cannot tell what time of day it is. To make matters worse, the Mountain is a steep and treacherous climb. Fields of loose rock give way under one's feet. Wooden bridges, only the gods know how old, creak and threaten to break with my every step. Everything here has felt the touch of desecration. Hopelessly deformed corprus victims wander aimlessly and litter the citadels with their reeking corpses.

I think this was some kind of study, once. Heavy desks line the entirety of one hall, and I've found the remnants of alchemical apparatuses and scraps of dwemer constructs. I found a strange tome I think I will keep, I cannot read the contents as they are either coded or in a tongue I do not understand but I can make out the name Kagrenac from the faded etchings on the cover, written in Aldmeris. I bet some scholar would think this a wonderful find, but I have no idea what to do with it except take it with me.

The good news is that I have recovered Sunder from one of Dagoth Ur's ash vampires, quite early in the day in fact. I was hoping Keening would be in the citadel I'm in now but there's no sign of it. To my eyes, not magically trained or inclined in the slightest, it would seem to be nothing more than a dwemer-made hammer. I daren't touch it without the gauntlet Wraithguard on, doing so is deadly, or so I was told... but when I do pick it up even I can feel its power. If I was comfortable doing so, I would put the artifacts at some distance from where I intend to sleep, as they give me a general sense of unease... but no, no risks. Only victory.

* * *

**15 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

I am quite thankful to be writing this from the relative comfort of Ghostgate tonight. I washed the ash out of my armor and off of my body, for all the good that will do, I am simply going back into it tomorrow.

I have recovered Keening, which is probably the most beautiful of the artifacts. A very light dagger, its hilt and hold are of the brass dwemer metal but the blade itself seems to be of a crystalline nature, shimmering and bright, but of course I know better than to look too close or touch it. I now have all three tools, sitting in a row on the dresser in my room, a bizarre and powerful collection. The Ordinators understand the importance of their safety and have posted a guard outside my room, while keeping a watchful eye on the volcanic ravine leading to their fortress. I am to be notified if we come under attack, but I think the chances of that happening are slim.

No, Voryn Dagoth... as he was known before he became the monster Dagoth Ur... knows better. He knows that I will come to him sooner or later, and he knows I will not come without the Tools. He is in no hurry, content to bide his time. He has waited for centuries. Another day will not cause him impatience.

At times, I 'feel' glimpses of memory, and it is strange. I do not see visions or hear voices, but like when I went to see Vivec, I felt that memory too. When I looked upon him I knew that we had been friends once, I felt the stirring of familiarity in my heart and mind, and it happens also when I think upon my enemy. I almost find myself... regretful, contemplating whether his corruption was my own fault for leaving him to guard these profane instruments of power. No mortal should have ever found these Tools; I wish they had vanished along with their blasphemous creators. I wonder how things would be.

Fancies, sadly, are of help to no one. I have stayed sitting up far longer than I ought to have. I must get my rest for as soon as I awake, I am donning my armor, climbing into that crater, and putting an end to all of this.


	17. 16-17 Sun's Dusk, 3E426

**16-17 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

The time had come. I slipped Wraithguard onto my arm, secured Sunder and Keening on my belt, and stopped into the Temple for a final prayer. I am not sure who or what I hoped to reach with my thoughts... Azura, the Imperial gods, my own predecessor, it didn't really matter to me. It was my last plea for strength, if any listening had any to lend, in this dark hour. To say it brought me peace would be a lie, however my nerves were calmed somewhat by the quiet concentration and scent of incenses.

As I was about to leave, I was stopped by a pilgrim; I did not recognize her but she claimed to be the woman I had escorted to a shrine in the Fields of Kummu some weeks ago. She offered me a simple, but touching gift: an small, austere cloth banner, decorated with the symbol of the Nerevarine, the Moon-and-Star. I had her tie it up to my satchel for good luck and she smiled with pride the entire time. Though the encounter was a bit awkward for me, I went out into the relentless ash with a better feeling than before.

The gates of the fortress closing behind me, locking me in the ash-choked hell of Red Mountain, had never felt so final. I began straight northward, but the path soon became too loose and steep. I was forced to begin picking my way on a treacherous mountain with no visibility, stopping every so often to get my bearings. Up and up and up it went, impossibly high. I made nearly a full circle around the mountain and it took hours... my only indication that the sun had gone down was that it was somehow even harder to see than before. The cloth I kept wrapped around my face kept filling with ash, defying all logic, and as a consequence I kept having to spit out mouthfuls of the foul, tainted stuff. If I were not immune to every disease known, I think I would have acquired them all before the height of the day.

Finally I surmounted the pass into the crater and had a look down. Dwemer architecture stuck out of every one of the crater walls, all surrounding a natural pot of boiling molten rock in the center. The heat was absolutely horrifying, I could feel its sting even from the distance I was at, and being fully armored was only making it worse. But I didn't have a choice. I had to press on. Peering around through the ash I spotted the only thing that even resembled a door, and headed for it.

I was soaked in sweat by the time I got in and shut the door behind and it was suddenly so much cooler; not quite comfortable but a great relief after what I had just been in. My heart was pounding, nerves and adrenaline high, and I felt it skip a beat when a low chuckle echoed through the chamber. My sword was in my hand in less than a second and I peered around me, on high alert. The familiarity was, this time, unsettling. Holding my blade outward I began a cautious walk into the Dwemer ruin, calling out my enemy, "Voryn!"

"_Come Nerevar. Friend or traitor, come. Come and look upon the Heart, and Akulakhan. And bring Wraithguard... I have need of it._"

I would have thought his voice was in my mind, were it not for the echo I heard as it bounced off the metallic walls. Just the same as it had been in my dreams. The heat of the citadel was momentarily forgotten as my blood ran cold. I didn't reply, just proceeding on, down, down into the darkness and heat and smell of death. Ash ghouls that leapt out at me were no match for my focus and fury. I had no time to spend on them, being driven by fate, by my past life, through those halls and to where my heart told me Dagoth Ur awaited me. And he beckoned me again:

"_Come to the Heart Chamber. I wait for you there, where we last met, countless ages ago. Come to me, through fire and war. I welcome you_."

I shivered, but not in fear, and tightened my hand on my sword. I came across a place where the wall of the citadel had been torn out and bare rock showed, a short tunnel, and though I could barely see it in the darkness, a wooden door. I paused before my hand could touch the handle... I sensed him in there. I had to fight back my anger before I faced him. Just for this occasion I had brought along a little vial of comberry liquor, just enough to taste, really, but enough to ready me.

Though I couldn't see his face behind the enormous, three-eyed golden mask, I felt that he was smiling at me. I kept my own expression neutral as I descended into the small, rounded cave, and the tall god-being walked forward to meet me, idly flexing claw-like hands. The corner of my eye caught a bright light from my left; an entire fiery chamber lay through a rounded door and I made out the silhouette of a construct bigger than anything I'd ever seen. However, I didn't look for long, too focused on my enemy.

"It began here," the Sharmat said lowly, "it will end here."

My sword still in hand, I raised it at him in challenge, holding my head high. More than ever before I could feel the presence of my former self, and with that I felt his desire to put to rest his corrupted former friend. I spoke as not-quite-myself, "I would prefer to skip the speeches, Voryn. We have unpleasant business to attend."

He seemed somewhat amused at the mention of his old name. "Ah, but I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer." I was silent but I did not strike, urging him to go on, and soon he did, holding up a single claw-finger, "My first question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?"

"By grace of gods and fate," said I, holding my ring for him to see plainly, "I am Nerevar reborn."

"That is bitter." Dagoth Ur nearly hissed, and then hatefully spat my words back, "The_ gods_ and _fates_... are cruel." He shook his head and turned away from me, and I relaxed my stance a little, seeing he was too enveloped in conversation to strike me off-guard. "I served you faithfully once, Lord Nerevar, and you repaid me with death. I hope this time it will be you who pays for your faithlessness."

The Sharmat strode over to a nearby shelf and picked up one of his ash statues, contemplating it. He seemed calm, but I wasn't taking my eyes off him for a moment. "My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Or will you complete Akulakhan, and dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?"

I narrowed my eyes; could he really not know what I planned to do? And if so, could I use that to my advantage somehow? "Come now," I shrugged, "Some things just are not meant to be toyed with. Is that not what you told me once, isn't that why I trusted you to guard the Tools in the first place?" I tried to keep my shock from showing in my face... how did I know that? Was I remembering something... was I even the one speaking?

"Well." His laugh echoed beneath the mask and he set down his trinket, facing me again with crossed arms. "Perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet. Or perhaps you obscure your plans on principle. Or perhaps you are an instinctive bluffer. No matter. My final question is: if I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?"

"No." I didn't hesitate for a moment, barely letting him finish his sentence, and he tilted his head curiously. "No. Absolutely not, I would never join you." I took a deep breath, voice threatening to rise. "You claim you are giving the Dunmer people a gift but all I have seen is suffering and death and it all comes from this Hell you have wrought. To even consider it would go against everything I have ever believed in, and I'm only here to make you pay for your crimes."

"Thank you for your forthright response." He folded his hands behind his back. "But if, by my crimes, you mean the inevitable suffering and destruction caused by war, then I accept the burden of leadership. The Sixth House cannot be restored without war. Enlightenment cannot grow without the risk of upsetting the tradition-bound and complacent herd. And the mongrel armies of the Empire cannot be expelled from Morrowind without bloodshed, and of course..." Here he gestured out the round door to the massive construct, obscured somewhat by the smoke and fumes of the fiery chamber. "Akulakhan. As I have charity and compassion, I grieve. But our mission is just and noble."

I felt my stomach turning the more he went on about how 'noble' and 'compassionate' he was. My mind was filled with images of the infected, the blighted lands and creatures... that is not love, it is oppression and death. It is the rejection of every idea that is not aligned with one's own in the most disgusting, dishonorable manner possible. "Enough," I growled, raising my sword again. "You understand nothing anymore but madness, Voryn. I'm finished talking." I set my stance. "Prepare yourself."

Dagoth Ur did not even move: just letting me run my sword right through his chest. At first I was stunned, then thought better of it... he was still a god, it was going to take more than that. As I pulled it loose he vanished, leaving behind not a trace. It was far from over. I decided to take my chance, however, and proceeded into the intensely hot Heart Chamber.

Looking down I saw a red, glowing stone situated in the open chest cavity of the colossal construct. Dagoth Ur had been using the Heart of Lorkhan as the thing's power source... this thing could not be allowed to be completed. The armies of all the Empire and Morrowind could not stand against it if it was. There was a narrow pathway leading down to a bridge and the Heart itself, running all the way around the wall of the chamber, nothing but molten rock below. Just as I turned to start making my way down I barely dodged a swipe from the Sharmat's claws; he had appeared behind me while I was assessing my route, fully regenerated, as if I hadn't even touched him. Just as I had feared.

Rather than waste energy fighting him again while he was immortal I started to make my way down the ramp. I could hear his laughter and taunting voice, but couldn't make out what he was saying over the ambient volcanic noise. A few moments in I was brought to a sudden halt by a fireball striking the rocks in front of me so hard that a few blasted loose and struck me in the face. But for a few scratches I was fine, and I looked over my shoulder to see Dagoth Ur charging up another fireball, so powerful it was that the core glowed white with heat and pressure. There wasn't enough room to dodge.

I brought up my shield in the nick of time but the blast left a melted dent, the metal so hot I had to take my arm out of the loops that held it secure so as to avoid being burned. My stance staggered from the force but I didn't waver... at least the first time. The god was quick to throw another at me and I held up the shield by the edges. A successful block, but now it was wrenched from my hands and fell into the magma. I cursed, turned on my heel and ran. I could hear the fireballs closing in as another one took out some bits of the path, which I jumped over without hesitation though my heart skipped a beat when I saw the molten lava below.

As I got rather close to the bridge my vision went white and I fell flat on my face, fortunate to have landed on the ledge and not rolled off. It took me a second or two to actually feel the intense pain searing nearly my whole back, my armor felt red hot and stuck like it was fusing with my skin. For once, I couldn't stop myself, and I cried out loud enough to echo. Despite all this however I stuck my sword in the hard earth and pulled myself back to my feet, my other hand scrambling for a scroll on my belt that I had thought I might need...

Just as the fireball meant to end our fight screamed toward me, and I activated the reflection scroll. The spell glanced off an invisible barrier just inches from me, so close I felt its heat, and struck its caster right in the mask. I didn't expect it to do much but buy me time and that it did, Dagoth Ur knocked backwards into the chamber wall by the force of his own terrible magic. I did not pause to watch; snatching Sunder off my belt and darting towards the Heart, coming at it full force with my hand protected by Wraithguard.

I heard Dagoth Ur roar at me as I struck it, my arm hurting somewhat from the impact vibrations. He felt that for sure and I saw him rushing down the remainder of the ramp to get at me, hideously angry, stringy black hair streaming out behind him. Scrambling I shoved Sunder into my satchel and took up Keening. I heard the sound of another spell being charged up but I didn't even have a second to look, striking the glowing red stone with the dagger once, then twice. And then... it seemed to merely blink out of existence, the pipes that were attaching it to Akulakhan now sitting vacant. Unsure what happened I turned to see the Sharmat fall to his knees, the spell in his hands fizzling out... only then did I know it had worked.

I started to walk over to him, putting Keening away and switching my sword back to my dominant arm. I should have known better than to think him powerless. With a swipe of his hand, Dagoth Ur threw fire onto the rope bridge and I had to leap off of it before it gave way. Before he gained immortality he had been a powerful sorcerer, and he was still such, though now, he could die. The loss of the Heart's power also meant he could get fatigued, and I set about trying to do that, forcing him to constantly dodge. He was too angry for words, growling and snarling at me in a mad frenzy. Surprisingly nimble he made fiery swipes at me, using some incantation to harden his hands so that he could block my sword with them. As we fought I the chamber began to shake all around us; a glance revealed Akulakhan was falling apart. Massive pieces of brass crumbled into lava and stones came loose from the ceiling as a result. I had to end this quickly...

Having to dodge a couple of rocks threw off my rhythm and the Sharmat darted his hand in, closing it around my throat. I could feel his claws dig into my skin and I gasped, fighting for air as he tightened it. His free hand snatched my sword effortlessly as I tried to shove it into him. My feet left the ground, lifted up by abominable strength. I felt my vigor leaving me, the glow of dark magic on his arm. Struggling only made it worse and made his nails cut up my neck more, and I heard him laugh the more I fought. I started to get delirious. Fading fast, I had one last thing to try. Leaving my unguarded hand on my sword, my artifact-protected hand took up Keening and shoved it into Dagoth Ur's corrupted heart.

It still took him a moment or two to drop me, and I collapsed to the ground, dizzy and coughing violently. I heard, but didn't see him pull it out, and when I finally got to my hands and knees he was lying still. Feeling a twinge of pity, I sighed and reclaimed the dagger, putting it away, vowing to myself to look into destroying the artifacts even though the Heart is no more. And just to be certain, I pushed the corpse over the edge to be cremated in the fires of the Mountain.

Staggering and really feeling the pain of my wounds as the adrenaline wore off, I dragged myself all the way back up the ramp and collapsed for a rest once I entered the relative safety of the cave where we had spoken. The moment I closed my eyes, though, I felt a presence and looked up to see a woman in white standing over me. Though she appeared Dunmer, I knew right off she was not of this world, a glow about her and a tangible feeling of peace in her presence. She reached out and laid her hand on my forehead and all at once, the searing in my back, the stinging in my neck; it all vanished, and I knew this powerful being to be Lady Azura. Humbled, I stood and bowed, and she bid me follow her.

The Goddess of Dusk and Dawn led me out of the citadel and into the crater and I saw that the winds and ash had ceased; above us was clear blue sky. I followed her on a path to the top of the Mountain, feeling as fresh and vigorous as if the battle hadn't even happened. The view was amazing. All of Vvardenfell nearly was visible from this spot.

"_You no longer bear the burden of prophecy_," Azura said to me, voice ethereal and soothing, "_You have achieved your destiny. You are free. The doomed Dwemer's folly, Lord Dagoth's temptation, the Tribunal's seduction, the god's heart freed, the prophecy fulfilled._"

And then Azura pointed down at the Ghostfence and I saw that the magical barrier was peeling away like water off of glass, the need for it, gone. The air smelled clean and the morning sun shone bright.

"_All fates sealed and sins redeemed. If you have pity, mourn the loss, but let the weeping cease. The Blight is gone, and the sun's golden honey gilds the land_."

"It is over, then." I looked down upon the land of Vvardenfell and smiled. "Thank you, my Lady." Azura smiled back at me, and then she was gone.


	18. 18 Sun's Dusk, 3E426: To Be Continued!

**18 Sun's Dusk, 3E426**

As soon as I got to Ghostgate and was cleaned of toxic ash I was out cold. Though my wounds had been healed I still slept through the full day and night, dreamless and peaceful. When I woke the simple dresser in my room had been covered in objects; a set of armor made entirely of Ebony, brand new it seemed, a couple of bottles of liquor, and a handful of coins, respectful offerings made in thanks. Most of the Ordinators and Armigers were still out on campaigns around the Mountain, having charged in as soon as the sky cleared and the Fence went down to begin clearing out everything I hadn't already managed to.

I got dressed and stepped out of the fortress to suddenly realize; I didn't have to be somewhere. No urgent business called me. I could go anywhere I pleased. As Azura had said, I was free. And so I sat down on the side of the road for a while and contemplated what I wanted to do, now that I had a choice in the matter. I could go anywhere... but I found myself wanting to stay right where I was, on Vvardenfell. Change was in the wind now. The Tribunal has lost its immortality and divine power, and the people will need guidance. There will have to be a rewriting of doctrine in the Temple and perhaps it will cause conflicts. For one who holds the titles of Nerevarine and Hortator, I feel I know precious little about leading people, however if my presence and counsel can be of help during this reformation I will gladly offer it.

So as Indoril Nerevar spent his life, Adarise Salvel shall spend her own following in his path and bringing peace to her people in whatever way she can. This I choose, a decision made free from the binding of prophecy.

My long journey has come to an end, but what is an ending but the beginning of something else? I go now back to Nibani Maesa, keeper of the first of my journals. I will add this tome to her collection and begin the process of negotiating for a more lasting peace for the sake of all who, like me, call Vvardenfell their beloved home.

_He honors blood of the tribe unmourned._  
_He eats their sin, and is reborn._

_His mercy frees the cursed false gods,_  
_Binds the broken, redeems the mad._

_He speaks the law for Veloth's people._  
_He speaks for their land, and names them great._

* * *

**_TO BE CONCLUDED!_ in "Adarise Salvel, Nerevarine" Coming soon!**

_"Thank you so much for taking the time to read this; I put a lot of effort into it and your encouragement is very much appreciated! Just because the main quest is over doesn't mean the story is though, one final part remains, and I hope you'll continue reading!" -Svetlaena_


End file.
